A While In The Life
by In Need Of Slash Fix
Summary: There's a flat on a London street at the top of a building, right next to the road and a single lamppost. It's recently been rented by two males. Potter and Malfoy. Their daily life seems to be all over the Internet.
1. Friday: Quarter To Two

_**A While In The Life…: Quarter To Two On A Saturday Morning**_

Harry often found that quarter to two on a Friday night- well, Saturday morning- was an excellent time to record one's deepest thoughts.

Usually, everybody in the building was asleep, so there was no chance of disruption; he had his own little secluded corner where he could let himself go; because of the hour it was completely dark, so he could sit by his window and wrap himself in the curtains, so that he couldn't be seen. He would write using the light from the lamppost within a finger's reach of the window- and more often than not he would recall how often he opened the window and hit it, scraping off a bit more of its paint each time. Harry was sure it was a _Health & Safety_ issue.

Tonight, he was stuck for words. He was suffering from writer's block, and couldn't think of anything to put his pen to. (Yes, pen. Harry liked to be awkward.) But then it occurred to him that, when recording one's thoughts, one doesn't _have_ to think about it. One just writes what is in one's head. This is exactly what Harry therefore decided to do; write down what was in his head- which was that he had nothing in particular in his head to write about.

_Right._

_Well. . . I don't really have anything in my head tonight. Or this morning, rather … et plus. I simply couldn't think of anything to put down- but then I remembered that I didn't have to, I could just write about not knowing what I wanted to write. That's the beauty of it, see; because I'm just flowing my thoughts freely, I don't need to find something. I could just take my empty head and make it form words-_

There was a rustle of sheets from the bed on the other side of the room, followed in quick succession by a heavy sigh and muffled groan. Harry stayed perfectly still, allowing himself to gaze out of the window blindly whilst listening to the sound of the duvet being thrown back, and soft footsteps padding across the carpet. His protection, the curtain, was rolled away, and two warm hands snaked around Harry's waist. They rubbed up his stomach and chest before ruffling through his hair, where a larger weight soon rested itself.

"Come back to bed," a sleepy voice whispered in his ear, "it's two in the morning. You don't need to be here... And I'm starting to get cold without you. … Come on. Come on, Harry. Come back to me."

Harry leaned into the soft lips at his ear and let out a contented sigh. But his reply was negative.

"No," he whispered, "I have to finish this."

"No, no you don't. … Do you?"

Harry nodded, once, slowly. The hands released him, only to take his chin and turn it so that he was looking into a pair of red-rimmed, sleep-lined eyes.

"Well then, do it in bed," they talked to him, pleaded with him, "you can have the lights on and everything, and I'll just lie there quietly. I need you there. I need you. Please come back to bed. You worry me."

Harry looked deep into those eyes, and saw their concern as clear as glass. He reached his hands up to trace the contours of the face in such close proximity to him, taking as much care as he would whilst handling fragile glass.

"Alright. Alright, Draco. I'll come back. Ok."

Draco smiled sleepily, and Harry dragged his journal and pen across to him with one hand, taking Draco's hand in the other. He leant forward to place a kiss, soft but passionate, on Draco's forehead. Then he got up and made his way over to his warm, appealing bed, stifling a yawn. Once in, he let Draco get comfortable (one arm splayed across Harry's chest, their legs entwined, his head resting under Harry's arms. He didn't seem to mind Harry's arm moving against him with the Muggle pen and closed his eyes.) before he re-opened the little leather book and resumed writing.

The next few minutes were content and quiet; the only sounds that could be heard were Draco's peaceful sighs and breathing, and the scratching of pen on paper as Harry wrote by the light of a small lamp on his side of the bed. Then;

"What are you writing?" Draco mumbled, his voice heavy with drowsiness, "Anything interesting?"

"No," came the reply from Harry, "nothing. Not anything you'd care to read, anyway."

And then, typical Draco; "Is there anything about me?"

Harry chuckled and lifted Draco's arm to kiss his hand, before replacing it on his chest.

"Yes. I'm writing about how you've persuaded me to come back here, and how you're now invading my personal writing bubble."

"Oh," the blond head replied drowsily, "Sorry." He didn't even open an eye.

Harry chuckled under his breath. This was what he loved.

"It's okay. Look, I'm finished now, so let me up to put this stuff away, ok? Draco?"

Draco reluctantly let his own limbs get moved off of Harry, and received a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you, you silly Slytherin fool. Don't forget it."

Harry didn't catch Draco's mumbled reply, as he was busy replacing his pen and book to his desk. Eventually he slid back in beside the still, beautiful figure in his bed, and wrapped arms around him. He placed his chest under Draco's head just the way they liked it, carefully, so as not to wake him. Harry then relaxed into a sleepy mood, yawning as he checked the clock- half past two in the morning. He sighed contentedly, for this was the place he wanted to be more than anywhere. Just before he fell asleep, he stroked Draco's hair with the back of his hands. Ten minutes later, when it was sure that Harry was no longer conscious, a whispered sentence interrupted the two sets of calm breathing.

"I love you too, Potter."


	2. Saturday: Fairies

_**A While In The Life…: Fairies**_

"I had to write a report on some dodgy fairies today."

An exaggerated gasp. "Draco! I'm offended!"

Harry received a whack to the face for his exclamation. The two of them were curled up on the sofa, Harry flicking through channels on the television, Draco staring into the fire and trying to ignore the suspicious Muggle invention. He resumed his recount of the day as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Yes, some fairies have been zooming around, trying to force small children into believing they exist. Some sort of Creature Rights campaign... I think they even have a name."

"Hmmm," Harry pondered half-mindedly, whilst focusing on the black screen before him, "that's strange."

Draco had picked up on the fact that he only had half of the other's attention, but made no comment on it, choosing instead to frown and talk slightly louder.

"That's what I thought. Who would go around forcing people to believe in fairies?"

"Peter Pan did," replied Harry immediately. He looked down into those luscious silver eyes and forgot not only what he was talking about but the remote control in his hands. It dropped down and hit him in the crotch, startling him from his reverie.

"Peter Pan?" Draco inquired, smirking, "Who's that? A dish cleaner?"

"You don't know the story of Peter Pan? By J.M. Barrie, no?"

And Draco listened whilst a slightly shocked Harry told him everything of the Muggle story. He listened enchantedly, and seemed put out when it finished.

"Here, I think I have the DVD for it somewhere," Harry said suddenly, shaking Draco off and leaping off the sofa, "let me just find it. . ."

"Erm, I'm sure that won't be necessary-"

"Of course it is! You can't know the story and not watch the film, that's just mental! Now, would you prefer the Disney version, or the real-people one?"

Draco was confused. Positively and utterly confused. He pulled himself up into a sitting position on the sofa whilst wondering what on earth a DVD was, what a Disney was and why they weren't real people. All he knew was that Harry had put a silver circle into a sliding compartment and was now fiddling around with that Muggle contraption. He shuddered; this couldn't come to anything good at all. By the time Harry had come back to Draco, given him some time to get comfortable (i.e. place Harry's arm around his shoulder, curl his legs up under himself, rest his head on Harry's side and wrap an arm around his waist) and reached again for the remote control, Draco was absolutely frightened.

The film didn't turn out to be at all bad; at times, Draco would look up to see Harry mouthing off lines, and snigger at him. This often brought a smile to Harry's lips, or a stroke of Draco's hair. When the scruffy-looking boy in the tights (Draco assumed that they weren't watching the "Disney" version, as all of the people were real) started going on about fairies, Draco felt a hell of a lot of irony. When he _smiled_, however, and _kept smiling __**for ages**_, a certain uneasiness spread around the two of them.

They stayed in their comfortable position on the sofa until long after the credits rolled up and off the screen. Only then did Harry remove his arm from its rightful place on Draco's shoulder and stretch it out. He dislodged more of Draco's limbs from his body and went over to collect the DVD. There was a definite feel of lethargy in the air.

"Seriously messed up child, that," Draco yawned, sitting up and stretching his arms out, "who wouldn't believe in Fairies? Fool. Oh well... 'Twas an ok film."

"Draco, it's a _Muggle_ film. Muggles _don't_ believe in fairies," Harry replied, exasperated and amused. "And it was rated **only** ok? Not even alright? Just plain, old, boring ok?"

Draco shrugged. He was hard to please. Harry laughed and placed a kiss on his partner's soft lips. Draco responded to it immediately, before pulling away and holding out his arms pathetically.

"Help me up," he whined, "I have work to do."

"Work? Nothing to do with dodgy fairies, is it, Slytherin?"

"Precisely what it is, Gryffindor."

"Oh, alright then," Harry teased, "if it's about those damned fairies I must away to let you get on."

"Shut it, Scarface," Draco replied, humouring him. He pulled Harry in for a sensitive kiss, hands tracing the back of his neck and pulling on his black, messy hair.

Harry pulled away.

"No. Work. Go."

Draco reluctantly wandered over to his desk, scowling and muttering obscenities under his breath.

"Love you too, _darling_."

Harry's words and the sound of his entertained chuckle put Draco into a respectively better mood. He turned around, growled slightly, opened his arms and blew Harry a kiss.

Translated: _all yours, baby!_

He sat at the desk and returned to his work smiling, happier than he had been all day.


	3. Sunday: Candle

_**A While In The Life…: Candle**_

The last candle was nearly gone; its tiny flame was flickering madly, like a last, frantic cry of help before it drowned in open air and lack of wax. Harry shook the depressing thoughts out of his head, and swirled his dark-coloured mead around his glass. The candle-holder had been pretty; ten candles in a square formation, all stemming out in lines of three from the largest, in the centre. The flames had leapt up at the start, their perfectly shaped points hardly moving at all. As the hours went on, the flames started to disappear into trails of grey smoke, one by one. Up until a few moments ago, there had been two, sputtering out golden light in a feeble attempt to stay alive. Harry sighed, and looked down to his lap where a mass of silky hair rested on a cushion. (Apparently, Harry's legs were too skinny for proper relaxation.) He snickered.

"Draco, I can't even see your face," he said, touching a strand with the tip of his finger.

A pale hand reached up and swatted Harry's cheek, quite sharply at that.

"Shut it, you," Draco smiled contentedly, "How's our candle doing?"

"Ah, it's nearly gone now," replied Harry. He nudged Draco and added, "Come on, lazy. Sit up and give it a proper send-off, won't you?"

With much grumbling and heavy sighing, Draco pulled himself into a sitting position against Harry to watch the stub of a candle flicker and fade, leaving behind a little plume of wispy smoke.

"Aah," he whispered lovingly, "_our little trooper_. All burnt out in a load of melted wax. How lovely." He lay back down, positioning the cushion under his head for complete comfort.

Harry gave a disapproving look and leaned forward to pass Draco's glass of mead over to him from the wooden table.

It was acknowledged with an "mmph", followed by a hearty swallow, and then, "Cheers, doll."

Harry tutted irritably. "Don't call me that," he complained.

"What, 'cheers' or 'doll'?"

"I don't like it when you call me doll," Harry continued, "I'm not a girl. Or a child."

"Hah," retorted Draco, eyes gleaming, "I beg to differ."

Harry made to get up and shove the blond git off of his balls, but said git held strong and Harry could only whip out the cushion from under Draco's head, and wallop him in the crotch with it.

"Serves you right," he retorted whilst Draco sat bolt upright, cursing in pain with his hands down the southern area.

"Hell, what have you _got_ in there!" He gasped, wincing. "You stuff it with bricks or something?"

Harry shrugged, the picture of innocence. His wand poked out through the sleeve of his t-shirt. Draco growled, and launched himself at the laughing idiot.

"Ooh," Harry challenged, "feisty!" And promptly found another way for Draco to channel his anger.

After about half an hour, when they had well and truly made up, Draco reached for the cushion- scowling at Harry playfully when he felt its light weight- and placed his head on it, over Harry's bare legs. He sighed, the picture of bliss, and reached his hands up to fold under his head. Harry let out a jolted groan, and wasted no time in complaining;

"Draco. Would you mind removing your elbow from my bellybutton?" His mouth turned down at the edges. "It bloody hurts, you know."

Draco lifted his head to smirk at his naked lover.

"Piss off."


	4. Monday: Prison

_**A While In The Life…: Prison**_

The curtains were pulled, but were emitting bright, white bursts from all of the lights flashing outside of the window. The door slammed shut and Draco spread out his arms against it, as if to bar the outside world. He sank, panting, onto the ground and put his head between his knees. He needed some time to catch his breath, to feel the reality of his situation. Just when he thought he could finally relax, the Muggle device in the corner started to make sounds. Draco hauled himself over to it and hovered his hands over it, not quite sure what to do. He tried to remember which one this was... and recalled Harry picking its long, corded part up to talk to it. Shaking his head in disbelief, Draco's shaking hands did the same.

"...H-hello?"

"Draco! Thank god, are you alright? What happened?"

"Oh, it's you," Draco's forehead creased in tiredness and confusion. It was Harry, on the other end of the machine.

"Sort of. I've only just got in, there were about a million people with cameras and cheap hats waiting for me outside, I could hardly escape them."

"God, I'm sorry, Draco. I should have come home, only they're keeping me in overtime. Goodness knows why."

"It's ok... I didn't expect anything of you..."

"What? Don't be silly, of course you did! I only just found out... Ron told me."

"Right," Draco winced. He touched the fast-becoming bruise on the spot near his right eye, and figured Harry hadn't heard much of the story. "Listen, I think you'd better ask me about what happened when you get back. Oh, and try and lift that boundary thing on the flat- it's going to be impossible over the next few days or so to get out of the flat without Apparating."

"Ugh, good point-" distant voices could be heard in the background, and Harry spoke quickly. "- look, they're calling me back. I'll try to get away when I can, but until then don't answer the door, don't answer the phone- oh, that's what you're on now- and I'll be there as soon as possible, I promise. I'm so sorry for what he's done-"

"Ok, I get it, go! You're not getting home any faster talking to me," Draco said hurriedly.

"Kay. I'll see you later. I love you," came Harry's distracted response.

"Yeah... later..."

Draco put the 'phone' back down and sank onto the bed. This was going to take some getting used to, and Draco needed to wrap his head around it all.

There had been a raid at his father's house.

Stolen items, valuable Ministry documents were found.

Bodies were found.

Lucius Malfoy, and several Death Eaters, were rounded up and sent to Azkaban.

By none other than Ron Weasley.

Draco wanted to kick something. The cheap ginger cock had come up to him and gloated. He'd rubbed it in Draco's face that his father was in prison. He had attempted to anger Draco by making useless jibes at him.

He had called Draco a 'despicable, insufferable poof'.

Unfortunately, that jibe had worked.

Now, Weasley was being nursed by his frizzy-haired wife, whilst Draco lay beaten up on his bed, scared and vulnerable. He stayed there for quite some time, until the door crashed open and Harry appeared.

"Draco! You're there. My god... Look at you. What the _hell_ was he _thinking_!"

Suddenly, Draco was engulfed in an almost violent embrace, with Harry's head buried in his shoulder.

"I swear, I will not sleep easily until I find Ron and punch him in the gut," he whispered forcefully into Draco's shoulder, "I am so, _so_ sorry, Draco. I really am."

Draco could say nothing for a while, just wrap his arms around Harry's waist and savour his comfort. When he found the voice to speak, his eyes shined with unshed tears for his father.

"I love you, Potter. I fucking love you so much."

Through the curtains and windows, about thirty photographers caught the silhouette of two males in an embrace, who couldn't be anyone but Potter and Malfoy. The flashes quickened, chatter ensued and the pictures were all over the wizarding world within a day.


	5. Tuesday: Strop

_**A While In The Life…: Strop**_

Draco woke suddenly to something hard and smooth being thrown at his face. He opened one eye blearily to see the morning paper next to him, with the corner of a headline peeking out.

**-TTER AND-**

That was all he needed to know. He tossed the paper away and closed his eyes again.

"Ugh," he groaned, "Good luck with that lot. What time is it, anyway?"

"It's..ten past seven. And what do you mean, _good luck with that lot_? You have work as well, you know," Harry's voice reached him from the other side of the room. Draco smiled and pulled his covers further up his head.

"Yes, Potter," he drawled from under the duvet, "You carry on telling me that. I'm not going in today. Recovery time."

Harry's footsteps got closer, and the warm, secure duvet was wrenched from his grasp, quite roughly. He opened his eyes to find Harry's face inches from his own, looking frustrated and concerned.

"Draco, you can't _not_ go in," he said quietly, "they'll only get worse. Look, the best way to end this is to face it. If you don't go out today, there'll be an uproar!"

No response from Draco. Harry exhaled heavily.

"Ok, fine. If you want to ruin what little dignity I'm trying to set out to achieve today, fine. If you want cameras flashing day and night for even longer, then that's alright with me. You just snuggle up in our bed and don't worry about ceasing the hassle we're going to get."

Harry was away from the bed and gathering his things, irritated. Draco heaved out a growl of frustration and raised himself up onto his elbows to squint at Harry.

"Seriously."

Draco was being well and truly ignored.

"Harry-"

"No, no, don't you over-exert yourself. I can deal with things very nicely for the two of us, thanks. You just stay there and lie down; rest your head."

He opened the door to leave, and Draco tried calling out his name but to no avail; Harry was gone, the door slammed loudly shut, a few papers on a nearby table fluttering in alarm. Draco sighed audibly, tilting his head back until it hurt.

"Ok, fine. You bloody stroppy git. Fine, I'm coming."

He threw back the covers on the bed and stretched himself out on the soft carpeted floor. Hurrying, Draco got showered and dressed, and even managed to conjure up a quick breakfast to eat as he wandered around the room, looking for this or for that.

"Honestly, Potter, the things I do for you," he muttered under his breath as he searched for a misplaced sock, "all because you had a hissy fit over my sleep rights. Goodness knows why..oh, there it is!"

He combed through his hair quickly, and checked himself in the full-length mirror to see if all was in order. When finally convinced that he looked perfect, Draco moved towards the door and put his hand out to open it- before remembering a briefcase he needed. He looked around the untidy room, and spotted it; he summoned it to him with a quick _accio!_ and made his way once more to the front door. Glancing at the clock, Draco found that he was about a quarter of an hour later than he should have been.

"Ah, crap."

Upon pulling the door open and rushing outside of it, Draco didn't expect anyone to be there- and promptly tripped Harry, who was leaning against a wall with his legs stuck out. From his feet, Draco huffed and demanded an explanation.

"What? I think it should be _you_ who's explaining to _me_, mister," Harry said smugly, "I've been waiting out here for you for bloody ages! Git."

By this time, Draco had pulled himself up off the floor and was all but ready to give Harry a death glare, before he was reminded of why Harry was there.

"You waited for me?"

"Oh, yes."

"Although you were annoyed with me, and would probably have preferred not to be late to work?"

"Pah, I knew you'd come round as soon as I was out the door. And I'm not that late, am I?"

Harry checked his watch, and found that it was five to eight. He looked at Draco with alarm. The smug, blond twit gave him a _well, aren't you clever_ look…before remembering they both left at half seven.

"Shit."

"Right-o."

The paparazzi were stunned a few moments later as both Draco and Harry rocketed past them in a rush to get off, knocking a couple over and shouting a quick apology. The headline for that day?

**POTTER AND MALFOY ASSAULT INNOCENT CAMERAMAN IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!**

"Give me strength!" Draco collapsed onto his bed later, tossing the bloody paper across the room.


	6. Wednesday: Tiny Dancer

_**A While In The Life…: Tiny Dancer**_

Draco thought that Harry rather had a thing for candles; there were several dotted around the room as they ate, and two were lining the table. He noticed Harry watching him from across of it, and he smiled. As much as he tried not to, Draco always smiled when he saw that man. It was like it was embedded in his brain for his face to flush and his mouth to spread at the edges. Harry laughed, and flicked the end of Draco's nose playfully.

"I love the effect I have on you," he teased, ignoring the scowl sent at him. "How was your dinner?"

"Well, the potatoes were undercooked, the wine was warm and the veg was cold. In a word; _awful_," Draco complained. Seeing the offence taken on Harry's face, he laughed. "I'm joking! Calm down, dear. It was lovely."

Harry still didn't look convinced. Draco continued; "Honestly. Don't look so hurt, you know I don't mean a word of it."

"What, even the compliments?" Harry's face immediately brightened with his comeback. Draco rolled his eyes and tutted.

"No, stupid. Don't be a fool."

"And there he is, the c_harming_, most _delightful_ Draco Malfoy." Harry's eyes were shining bright with sarcasm, before they softened and he spoke in a quieter, less harsh tone.

"Dance with me, Draco."

"What, and unsettle the contents of my stomach without giving it time to digest? _Never_."

"Come on. You know you want to."

Harry swilled around his wine glass before taking a sip from it, his eyes never once leaving that of Draco's. They eyed each other up for a long time, each doing much more, mentally, than simply looking at the other.

"Oh, go on then," Draco whispered silkily, "you've won me over."

Harry smiled; indeed, he had. He stepped up from the table and closed the small distance between the two of them, holding out his hand. It was taken by his soon-to-be dance partner, and Draco rose gracefully. There was a small space in the middle of the room where no furniture or belongings intruded, and Harry led Draco there. He also picked up something square and thin, and opened it to take out a similar silver disk to one Draco had watched him extract before. This was placed into what Draco believed to be a 'stereo', and soon after that, the sound of a piano drifted around the room, reaching Draco's ears and making him flush. On this, Harry chuckled.

"Don't look so worried, it's only Elton John."

"Who?"

Draco didn't care who it was, he just wanted to be in Harry's arms. Soon, his wish was granted as Harry stepped closer and placed an arm on his waist. Draco responded to his touch by drawing them closer together and looping his arms around the other man's neck. This, if anything, brought them Even Closer and they found their faces almost touching.

"_Ballerina_," Harry whispered, in time to the song, "_You must have seen her_..."

"Shh..."

Draco silenced the still-moving lips with a touch of his finger, and Harry wrapped his lips around it, kissing it gently. Draco pulled on where his free hand looped Harry's neck, and engaged him in a sweet, gentle kiss. Nothing more came of it, and the both of them pulled away, keeping their mouths in close proximity and their noses touching. The two of them then started to move slowly around their little dance floor, turning and swaying and not looking each other in the eye, Harry choosing to close his and Draco lowering his eyes to his lover's shoulder. Softly, Harry started to hum the tune of the song under his breath, getting louder ever so slightly as it went on.

"_Hold me closer, tiny dancer_," he sung, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and resting his head securely on Draco's taller shoulder, "C_ount the headlights on the highway..._" The song went on.

Draco let out a strange, childish giggle. "Tiny? Really? Don't you think it should be _me_ who addresses _you_ as 'tiny'?"

Harry also laughed quietly, and hugged Draco tight. Their contentment was to be short-lived, as soon there were noises from outside, and camera flashes showed through the closed curtains. Both Harry and Draco exhaled, and Harry took his head off of the other's shoulder.

"Don't they have _lives_ to live?" He wondered. "Don't they have anything _better_ to do than stand outside our flat and make a nuisance?"

"Hmmm," Draco considered, "I don't think they do, no. Not at all from what I can gather."

Another song started on the stereo; another slow one, its tinkling piano melody floating easily into their ears. Harry touched Draco's cheek with his lips and broke away to have a strong dose of wine. After a moment's hesitation, Draco followed to do the same.

"Can't you do something about that?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Surely you can put a Privacy Charm on the place, or _something_."

Harry's voice sounded exasperated, like he had told this a thousand times before.

"No, Draco; something like that would affect the entire building, and besides, it would break the terms I have with the landlord to perform magic in here for our comfort."

Draco huffed. "_Our_ _landlord_ didn't seem to mind when you whacked me in the dingle with a suspiciously _overweight_ _cushion_ the other night though, did he?"

"Ah, but that wasn't for _our_ comfort, was it?"

Harry narrowly avoided the alcohol sent his way by an angry-but playful- Draco.

"Whoops," he jibed, "Missed. Clumsy!"

Draco growled, and the flashes kept on coming through the curtains. He sighed; this was going to be a long night.

**A/N: The two songs played in this are real; Tiny Dancer and Levon by Elton John, from the album Madman Across The Water. Just thought you'd like to know, if you didn't already =]**


	7. Thursday: Date

_**A While In The Life…: Date**_

Somewhere across on the other side of the room, there was a beep and a frustrated exclamation. Draco raised his eyes from the quill and parchment he was using, and looked at the man with the dark hair sitting at his desk. Harry was cursing at a frozen screen, and running his hands through his hair in frustration. Draco smirked to himself; _that's what you get for using a Muggle contraption to do your work on_, he thought to himself. Bored by Harry's repetitive antics, Draco lowered his eyes to the parchment in front of him and tapped the end of his quill with his mouth. Frowning slightly, he continued the letter he was replying to in silence, and pulled a form towards him once he had finished. After reading it once over, Draco shuddered; he did not want to know the details of this particular form. He decided to turn his attention instead to something a little more…entertaining.

Harry was typing away furiously at his computer, hands flying, making so many mistakes that it took him twice as long to complete a sentence than it would have done, had he been relaxed. The damn machine kept on freezing, and Harry hadn't much time to finish this work. The cease of sound from the other side of the room, followed by partially-concealed footsteps on the carpet towards him, meant that Draco had either finished up or given up on whatever it was he was doing- and had now come to inflict himself upon Harry. He sighed heavily, and focused his attention to the document he was, slowly but surely(ish), getting done on the computer screen. He paid no attention to the warm arms that captured his chest from behind and around his shoulders, and he ignored the sudden weight atop of his head.

"How's your Contraption Work coming along?"

Draco's voice was somewhat muffled by the hair his chin rested in, and he thought that maybe- _just maybe_- that was the reason why Harry didn't answer him, choosing instead to carry on with his Contraption as if nobody was there. He repeated himself, lifting his face out of Harry's hair to ask him how his work was doing.

"Draco," replied Harry, trying to keep his voice level, "what's the date today?"

Draco's arms slunk off of Harry's shoulders and he turned his back, retreating to his letter.

"It's the something-eth of May." His reply was irritable.

Harry smiled smugly, whilst looking at the automated date at the top of his screen. It was printed onto his documents as soon as he saved them, and Draco knew that.

"Actually, it's June," Harry corrected, again keeping his voice level, "the third to be exact. Not May…we've just passed that. But thank you; you've reminded me _perfectly_."

Draco huffed, and the sound of his quill scratching against the dry parchment filled Harry's ears (Harry chuckled to himself, and resumed full concentration on his typing; he loved winding Draco up) as he began to fill in the form. After a few boxes, he paused.

"Harry, what's the-" Draco flushed angrily, more at himself than anything else, and stopped himself short. "Never mind."

In one of the boxes, he quickly jotted down _03/03_. Carefully, he read the next requirement and supplied it in silence. The only sounds in the room were the fast, often cut-short typing from Harry's side of the room; contrasting with the scratchy, liquid sound of quill against parchment from the side Draco was currently occupying. It was a peaceful, calm atmosphere; at least, it was until the bloody phone began to ring. Draco jumped out of his skin and glared at it before siphoning ink off of his form and continuing its completion. Harry, however, carried on typing frantically and didn't stop, even after three rings.

"Draco," he called, "the phone's ringing."

"Which is my Muggle problem, because…"

"Because, as you fully well know, I'm extremely busy and in my current mental state am not in a capable state to answer the phone without scaring the wits out of the poor person on the other end, you git!"

Sulking, Draco strode over to the phone, picked it up and answered a bored _Hello?_. He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes and held the phone out to Harry.

"It's the landlord," he drawled.

"Damn."

"Harry, you said-"

"Yeah- I know, I'm working on it; here, give it to me-"

"Look! They're still there, outside!" Draco thrust a hand over to the lit-up curtains as Harry leapt up from the computer to collect the receiver. "Can't you at least tell him-"

"_Draco! I _said_ I'm working on it! Do you not think that I'm going to ask him about it now, what did you_- Hello?"

He turned his back on a fuming Draco, and talked earnestly with their landlord. Draco stood scowling with his arms crossed over his body, listening to the "agreements" and "compromises" Harry was arguing over the phone with the landlord; it made his blood boil. This wasn't some silly heating issue, this was about using magic to gain their own _privacy_, something everybody else in the building seemed to get free of hassle.

"_Harry!_" His voice was raised in temper as Harry continued to get his ideas rebuffed, "Don't ask him, _tell him! _This is our _privacy_ on the line! _JUST-TELL-HIM!"_

Draco got a finger raised to a mouth in his direction, and Harry turned his back on him. Unfortunately, this only angered Draco more. Also, it meant that Harry couldn't turn around in time to stop Draco from going over to the curtains and throwing them wide open, before unfastening the catch of one of the vast panes. He spun around when he felt the breeze on the back of his neck, and saw Draco pulling a chair over to the window.

"Draco, what are you _doing_?" he hissed. Draco merely glared at him before getting up onto the chair and throwing the waiting crowd outside the grand gesture of his middle finger. He then stormed out of the room, not bothering to close the windows or the door, and Harry lost connection with the landlord as cameras flashed wildly through the window and excited voices discussed what they had just seen.

However, before he could run out after the infuriated man, he spotted the parchment Draco had been writing on before and picked it up. Just one glance at the form title, and Harry groaned audibly.

"This just keeps on getting better," he muttered as he dropped the parchment and belted it out of the door. The phone started to ring as he left.

The parchment floated down to the floor and was partially hid under one of Draco's slippers. However, its header still remained visible.

**APPLICATION FOR ASSISTED PRISON VISITS**


	8. Friday: Tick Tock

_**A While In The Life…: Tick Tock**_

The entire flat was silent. It echoed around the place like an infuriating insect, refusing to leave and making anyone present uncomfortable. The only vague sounds to be heard were the deep, calm tide of someone's breath; it was faint against the slight breeze coming through the wide-open windows. From there came a droning mumble, formed by around twenty people talking unanimatedly amongst themselves. One could hear a rather interesting conversation about the Muggle Prime Minister, if one strained their ears and listened carefully.

Around the room, various objects seemed out of place; for instance, a chair was placed untidily under the windows; a letter of some sort lay partially hidden underneath a solitary slipper. Near the door, which was tightly shut, a coat stained the light carpet black, as did two shoes. A newspaper lined the ground by the big bed. These items seemed to lead a particular trail; from the door, across the carpet, and eventually to the bed. If one were to follow this 'trail' of sorts, one would find oneself staring at a figure adorning the un-slept-in duvet.

It was a human; his body lay sprawled across the sheets like he had collapsed onto the bed from in front of it, and simply had not bothered to change his position. One of his arms stretched to a point above his head, near the headboard of the vast bed, and the other dangled off the edge of the bed quite near to where the fallen newspaper was. This hand, and his eyes, both faced one direction; the hand reached out as if to touch its destination, longingly. His eyes stared blankly into space, seemingly seeing nothing of what was in front of him. The locked door to the opposite right side.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He counted to ten. He counted to fifteen. Twenty. The door remained closed and the room empty when he opened his eyes. Wearily, he glanced over to the clock.

Eleven-thirteen am.

It had been over a day, now; one whole day and several hours. Harry had spent four hours trying to find Draco before he gave up. He had then returned home in the hope of contacting him, to no avail; the _Point M_e spell didn't work, nor did the Mirror (a birthday present; a set of mirrors, tiny, just like the ones Harry and Sirius had briefly shared). Not even _accio!_, in a vain attempt when Harry knew he could find nothing else potential. Keeping in mind the failed spells, wasted searching and last resorts, Harry could think of no other thing to do in aid of Draco and so had done the one thing most likely to take his mind off of things.

He had picked up his coat and shoes again, and marched over to the landlord's with hell in his eyes.

Half an hour of discussing, fifteen minutes of raised voices and a full-on shouting match for a good ten minutes eventually made Draco's views on privacy and fairness clear to the landlord. Once they had both calmed down, it was finally agreed that Harry would cast a single Privacy Charm over his window, so that he and Draco were concealed from the damn paps outside. However, it didn't solve the problem of getting out alive in the mornings for work, but the landlord had shrugged his shoulders at this and given a dark _don't push your luck_ over the top of a whiskey glass.

Harry slammed the door on his way out and had walked home in a worried anger, buying a can of beer at a local offy on the way and downing it in five gulps before he reached their road. One of the waiting journalists pressed a copy of the day's Daily Prophet into his hands, and he didn't look at it until he was in the building. Until he was up the stairs and into the flat. Until he had ripped off his coat and tossed it down. Until he had taken off his shoes and paced the room. Only then did Harry stop in front of the bed and glance down at the huge picture of Draco adorning the Daily Prophet front page.

Harry had then exhaled in exasperation and collapsed backwards onto the bed, clutching the stupid paper and scrunching up his eyes. They had drifted to the door on his left, and his head had turned. That hand had intended to chuck the paper, but instead dropped it weakly onto the floor.

"Please," Harry had whispered, his voice hoarse from shouting, "_Come back_..."

And he had stayed in that position for the rest of the time. Now, the clock read eleven-fourteen. Harry turned his head to face the ceiling, and it ached. He slowly sat up, easing the cricks in his neck and arms. He suddenly realised he was shivering treacherously, and followed the cold to the billowing curtains either side of the window. Agonisingly slowly, Harry went over and pulled the window down, thinking to himself that this would be a good time to set that Privacy Charm, before fetching his wand from the computer desk. After he had set the charm going, Harry looked around and tidied up the flat.

Eventually, he found himself with nothing to do, and so he lay himself down on the bed, over the covers, in a foetal position. Facing the door. He was completely still when it clicked open and a slim figure eased himself through it. He made no change in expression on his face and body when Draco spotted him and stopped in his tracks. The tall man stooped to the floor to pick up the Daily Prophet, and rolled his eyes when he saw it before tossing it to the floor.

"I... I went to the landlord. There's a Privacy Charm on the window now. It's the best I could get... Sorry."

Draco found he could say nothing, and let the guilt of his recklessness last night wash over him; a sea of regret. He removed his shoes and coat, and carefully climbed onto the bed next to where Harry lay. He mimicked the foetal position but rested his hand under his head, stretching the other to stroke Harry's face, stopping at his mouth. They lay there, peaceful in mutual apology, over the covers until they were both asleep and the sky outside started to get light.

**A/N: Let me just take some time to say here two points. Firstly, thank you for the reviews, Story Alerts and Favourite Stories I've gotten in the week or so I've been putting this up. These people, I believe, are **countryangelatheart**, **xXFissshBonesssXx**, **Darloudasha**, **Serpent's Den**, **renesmeeblack333** (nice name), **XAnnabubbleX**, **kt0117**, **DeathDeparture** and **x Bluebell Flames x**. You lot, thank you so much for responding to my work ^-^**

**And the other thing. Erm, you may notice that this is a little bit late (i.e. it's Sunday and I haven't uploaded Friday's until now). This will most probably be a regular occurrence; now that school holidays are over (noooo! ****) I won't have as much time to get them uploaded. But I promise I will get 'em up eventually- just be prepared for nothing from Monday-Friday and then about six chapters suddenly there on Saturday xD! I'll try as best as I can to get them up here as soon as I write them, though.**

**So, yeah. Enough babbling from me. Go! Go and read chapter … chapter … 8? No, that's this one. CHAPTER NINE! AWAY TO IT! =]**

**Chezzy x**


	9. Saturday: Normality?

_**A While In The Life…: Normality?**_

A blaring, fuzzy noise blasted into Draco's ear. He made to bury his head even further under his pillow and pull the duvet further up over himself- but his hands scrabbled at thin air, and upon opening his eyes he found the duvet was underneath him. He looked down and saw he was fully dressed, apart from shoes. The noise was still sounding in his ears, and he spotted Harry's radio alarm flashing the time. He groaned and slumped back onto the covers, nudging the sleeping form of Harry so that he might wake up.

"Bloody Muggle-loving twat," he grumbled, resorting to kicking Harry harshly, "wake _up_, you scarred git. That radio's making funny noises and I'm tired."

"Wha...?" Harry's voice was slurred, as if he was drunk. He rolled over onto his side to look at the radio and hear its fuzzy reception.

"Oh, it's the morning alarm..." he eyed it up, weighing up his options of rising to go to work or staying in bed with Draco.

"Oh...fuck it," Harry murmured, reaching over the edge of the bed and grasping around for the electric socket near the floor. "The Ministry can last one day without me. The Boy Who Lived can be sick for a day..." He flicked a switch and sighed back into a comfortable position.

The radio alarm immediately ceased its noise, and the flashing time disappeared from the screen. It lay silently on the bedside table, an inanimate object. Draco preferred it that way. He relaxed back into his hedonistic lounge, and lay in contentment with his eyes closed for a minute, until a thought popped into his head.

"Harry."

"Mmmm?"

"Aren't you going to Fire-call them?"

"What? Call who?"

"The Ministry. To let them know why their top Auror is lying in bed with his significant other, instead of fighting wizard crime up in London."

"Mmmm...no."

"No?" Draco was surprised.

"Nope. I'm sure someone will have read the news... Ron'll probably figure it out, he usually does-" Harry realised his mistake and kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Ron." Draco's tone was clipped, and the situation became tense.

Both of them lay in silence, and Draco considered the little conversation they had just had. _Let them know why their top Auror is lying in bed with his significant other, instead of fighting wizard crime up in London_, he had said. Lying in bed. _In_ bed. Another thought was spoken.

"Harry."

"Yes, Draco." Harry's voice sounded almost exasperated.

"Don't you think we ought to actually lie _in_ the bed? Instead of lounging around on top of the covers?"

Harry opened his eyes and studied his surroundings, looking slightly surprised at this particular revelation.

"Oh. I hadn't noticed that. Well... No, I don't think we ought to. Don't know about you but I'm fine like this."

"Hmph. Fine then, just let me take these bloody garments off. They're clinging to me like a static balloon." Draco sat up and extracted the shirt from his chest, tossing it over the side of the bed. His trousers followed, and he lay back down next to Harry in his boxers. "That's better. I could hardly breathe before."

Harry nodded absent-mindedly, eyes closed. One of Draco's arms wrapped unexpectedly around his waist, and he leaned into the touch, pulling Draco closer to his body. Draco snuggled into the embrace, and they found themselves entangled in a relaxed bunch of limbs. Harry's breath slowed as sleep overcame him, and Draco smiled at it. He stroked Harry's slumbering face, and soon followed in his footsteps. Neither of them moved in their sleep, and so they remained in this fashion for hours.

Harry woke before Draco, and disentangled his legs, taking care not to wake the dozing form in front of him. He stretched his arms, and realised that because he'd flipped the switch on the radio he couldn't tell the time. A quick glance at the watch falling off of Draco's wrist told him it was just gone twelve. He flumped back down and placed his head next to Draco's, letting his lower body slip off the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said aloud. "I shouldn't have gotten angry like that. I know how you feel about privacy... I'll not take it for granted again. I'll have another chat with the landlord...he _might_ let us off another charm."

"I'm sorry, too..." Draco stirred beside him, opening his eyes and turning over onto his back so that, like Harry, he stared at the pale yellow ceiling.

"I realise what a stupid and selfish thing it was to react the way I did. I was only thinking about myself, and it wasn't justified at all-"

"No, Draco, of course it was-"

"It wasn't, and you know it."

Harry was silent. Draco sighed, and pressed his fingers to bridge his nose. This was all going wrong.

Tentatively, Harry turned his head to the side, to look at Draco instead of the ceiling. With one hand, he reached over and removed Draco's fingers from his head. The other one rested on Draco's chest, near his heart.

"I know," he said. "I know."

Simply.

Draco turned his head and took Harry's hand. He kissed Harry softly, his face crumpling in remorse for his actions and grief for his imprisoned father. He kissed Harry and he spoke a thousand words of forgiveness and apology. He gripped Harry's hand and let it become his support; his beacon of light, a hand of the one person in the world whom he could trust.

"Yes," he whispered in response, "I know."


	10. Sunday: Distractions

_**A While In The Life…: Distractions**_

Harry was at his computer again. Its monstrous keys made an annoying tapping sound, pausing every now and again so that he could go back and look over what he had written. Draco sighed. Why Harry thought that the Ministry needed typed and printed Muggle-looking documents was beyond him. He tried to ignore the rattling of plastic across the room, and focused on what he had been trying to do, with much difficulty, for the past half an hour.

The entire form was filled in, for the visit to Azkaban- all except for one part at the bottom. There were three options for Draco to choose from, three dates of which he could see his father. One of them was _tomorrow_; too soon. He couldn't face the thought of seeing Lucius _tomorrow_, only six days after the dratted imprisonment. And besides, he hated Mondays. Another was on the 13th, a week from now. The final option was Thursday. Four days from now; the 10th. Draco sighed, and put down his quill. He'd never be able to choose at this rate; one too soon to be able to think about, one too far to wait without changing his mind and the other slap-bang in the middle of the week, with only a few days to prepare for. Worn out, he slumped down onto his desk and raised the quill once more; meaning to stab it down on the page and accept whatever option it chose to be his visiting date. Before he could bring it down, Harry interrupted.

"_Wait_! Wait, Draco. What are the date options?"

How long Harry had been quietly observing the manner of behaviour on the other side of the room, Draco did not know. But he answered him all the same.

"Tomorrow, Thursday or next Sunday."

"And what's the problem with them, then?"

Harry turned around in his chair to look at Draco, waiting for an answer.

"Too near, too far, too awkward," Draco moaned. He lifted his head and continued, "Tomorrow's too _near_ to see him. I have no time to think about what to _say_, or _wear_, or if I should give him a hug or not, if it's even _allowed_ to have physical contact, that sort of thing. And next week's too far away- I'll have changed my mind by Tuesday, and'll want to write to them and change it!"

"Well, what's wrong with Thursday?" questioned Harry. Draco was silent; secretly, there was nothing wrong with Thursday. He was just having doubts. Harry smirked. "Well, there you go then. That's it settled. You're to go on Thursday."

Begrudgingly, Draco ticked off the last box and sealed the envelope. He unlocked Hedwig's cage, ignoring the snaps from the anti-Malfoy owl, and attached the letter to her.

"Honestly, Hedwig, I thought we'd gotten over this. Your _owner_-" he raised his voice in Harry's direction- "may have taught you to hate me for around a decade, but that's _years_ ago, now! All in the past!"

He drew his hand back quickly as Hedwig clamped down on some skin, and examined the blood.

"Fine then, you bloody pigeon. Come here-"

"Draco! She doesn't like being called a pigeon!" Harry scolded, his eyes never leaving his computer screen. "It's rude and downright ignorant, and it brings back bad memories. You should know better by now." He tutted.

Draco was hesitant at the window to open it and let Hedwig fly off to Azkaban, until he was reminded by Harry that the Privacy Charm was _permanent. For the time being, anyway_. He threw it wide open and released Hedwig out into the air, watching her beating wings as they disappeared into the bustling city. He secretly thought Hedwig was the most beautiful bird he had ever seen, perhaps as beautiful as her owner. Draco smiled, and lowered his eyes. He got a shock when he saw all of the people there.

The reporters, the paparazzi, other members of the general public who just wanted to be part of the craic. It was amazing what the Privacy Charm did; he'd just thrown open a window and released a bird, and not one of them had noticed. Draco spied on them for a while, before turning to Harry and pointing at them.

"Harry, these people really do have no lives," he exclaimed, "they're just standing there! Aimlessly!"

"Yup," responded Harry distantly, "now you know how I felt."

"There's one woman there who hasn't moved a muscle for about forty minutes." Something dawned upon Draco. "Hey, she's been here for days! I don't even think she's got any more clothes... How can she survive without any _food_, or _water_?"

"I think she's a vampire," Harry said, getting more and more distracted from his work.

"Or maybe even dead," contemplated Draco. He gasped as a thought came to him. "Maybe she's the ghost of my great-grandma's aunt Marie, come to haunt me!"

Harry snorted in a sudden burst of laughter. "Why would some dead person haunt you, _just_ because you're their great-grand-nephew?"

"It's great-_great_-grand-nephew, actually," Draco corrected, "at least, I think it is. And her name was Marie."

"Marie Malfoy. What a name."

"Technically not, as she was on my mother's side of the family…"

"Oh, God. Marie Black. Even worse!" Harry doubled over in giggles.

"…and even then, she was on my mother's _mother's_ side, so she wouldn't have been Black either."

"Wait...what?"

"And after all that, she was married, I believe. So I have no idea of what her surname is. She can remain Marie."

"Ok, Draco, you've well and truly confused me," Harry replied, saving his work and getting up to join Draco. He stood behind him at the window, snaking arms around his waist.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Surely, if this window is protected, and the people outside can't seem to notice anything we're doing..." Draco's tone of voice implied that he was planning something. "...then, surely, if we were to do something outrageous like, say, oh, pulling the curtains wide and stripping in broad daylight...they wouldn't notice a thing, would they? Would they, Harry?"

A devilish smile wove across Harry's lips as he unbuttoned Draco's shirt.

**A/N: Just a few more thank-yous to dish out. These go to **KeepingUsASecret**, **munter** and **Darloudasha **(again =D) for their response =]**


	11. Monday: Squabbling

_**A While In The Life…:Squabble**_

_Monday_

The door slammed shut, leaving Harry's strained smile to sink off of his face. A loud, wooden thump followed by a groan sounded behind him; he turned around to see that, yes, Draco had kicked a chair.

"…Stupid, _ignorant_, _rude_ little Muggle-" Draco growled in frustration, and crossed over to the window. He looked out once more upon the flashing cameras, through the curtain, and rolled his eyes. Stupid fools.

"Draco, you can't judge a man by his blood," Harry warned. Draco didn't turn around but answered him clear enough from the dark curtains.

"I'm not! I'm stating my opinions! You _know_ I see Muggles and wizards the same, it's just that _man!_ He makes my _blood_ boil! That man is too foul even to wipe my-"

"_Draco!_" Harry hissed, "calm down!"

Draco sighed and pressed his head against the cool wall. He waited ten seconds (a Muggle trick Harry had taught him which, like most Muggle things, didn't seem to work) before exploding into another raging rant. But a _quieter_ one.

"I-! I'm sorry, Harry, I _really_ am," he growled softly, clenching his fists, "it's just the way he _is_! Completely unfeeling towards us _just_ because we're not Muggle-"

"I'm sure that's not the reason.." Harry said; it wasn't exactly telling a lie. Wizardry may have been _part_ of the reason the landlord didn't like them.

"- and treating us like criminals, because my father is in prison! And we're not even allowed some _privacy_, whilst every other person in the bloody building can do-"

"Draco, he doesn't want us to have more _privileges_ than the rest of them; by using magic for pleasure, we're _getting_ more privileges-"

"-anything they like with _their_ windows, oh yes! Well, Harry, I have to say I could give that man an _award_ for inconsiderability, because _dear lord_ that man is about as considerate as a bloody _teaspoon!_ And to top it off-"

"Is that even a word?" Harry mused quietly, looking in wonder at the ceiling from where he had flopped down onto the bed, suddenly exhausted with all this awkward arguing.

"- he has the utter _cheek_ to call us _wrong!_ The slimy, two-faced…git!" Draco continued, pausing to take in a deep breath.

"And no, Harry," he concluded, "inconsiderability is _not_ a word. Perhaps what I was trying to get across would have been represented better with the word _inconsiderateness_. Which may not exist either. I don't know.

Harry lifted himself onto his elbows to look at Draco's silhouette by the window. To be honest, the landlord _had_ been pretty strict with them. They weren't allowed to perform any more magic to protect themselves from the crude photographers outside their window. Any more trouble and they'd have their second warning. Draco's voice drifted across again, and Harry concentrated on listening.

"I mean, it wasn't exactly _our_ fault, was it?" He mumbled, just loud enough for Harry to hear, "how was I supposed to know the bloody charm would dissolve into nothingness? All we did was knock the window a little…or maybe cracked a pane…but still. The bloody man can't take away our rights to a nice, _simple_ life!"

Surprisingly, Harry started to laugh. He sat up and leant against the back of the bed, creasing up.

"Draco," he chuckled, "have you _any idea_ of how ridiculous you sound?"

Draco found himself smiling too, at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. That being the Privacy Charm spontaneously combusting- just as the two of them were performing interesting things behind their glass- so that the entire public could suddenly notice them again; resulting in a visit and an hour's shouting match with the landlord, and a warning. He went and joined Harry on the bed and laughed with them, shaking the frames so much that a thought occurred to Draco.

"Oh, god," he sputtered, "with all this shaking-"(giggle)"-what on _earth_ will the neighbours think we're up to?"

Eventually, they both calmed down, and lay contented in each other's arms.

"Well, at least it was a nice change," Draco pondered, "having him around shouting at us here instead of you disappearing."

"What?" Harry removed his face from Draco's shoulder to speak clearly. "What on earth do you mean, a _nice change_?"

"Well, it's usually you who's being enticed over to his place week on week," Draco continued, "I should be getting more protective of you. Naughty."

"Draco, he's married!" Harry let out a guffaw.

Draco smirked. "Never stopped me."

"And he's got _three kids!_"

"And that stopped you, _how_?"

Harry gave up, and retreated into Draco's shoulder blade again. There was blessed silence for a few minutes. Then;

"What I don't understand," piped up Draco, "is that if he didn't want us to be seen, then why didn't he just let us have a Concealing Charm?"

"Oh, Draco." Harry turned his face again to speak clearly, and looked worn out. "This is a _Muggle_ building. On a _Muggle_ road. In a majorly _Muggle_ city. Numerous Muggles walk down this street every day, checking the sky for rainclouds. They see this flat, with its bloody big windows. The maintenance guy who fixes the lamppost when the light's all flickering is _level with this window_. He knows the flat's here. The Muggles in the _building_ see us coming out and going in every day, and wandering about the streets when we've nothing better to do. So, obviously, _they_ know the flat's here. What do you think they would suppose if, suddenly one day, the big bloody windows mysteriously disappeared? If the guy came to fix the lights, and the Muggles looked up at the sky, and found no rich-guy windows staring back at them? (Yes, Draco. They are rich-guy windows.) And all of the people who lived here saw us coming in and going out of a _blank space in the wall_? Do you reckon they'd still consider themselves sane?"

"Oh."

"Yes, Draco. Oh." Harry reached up and kissed Draco's cheek tenderly.

"Don't forget I love you. Silly fool."


	12. Tuesday: Post

_**A While In The Life…: Post**_

Draco eyed the envelope waiting for him with suspicion. He had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. He looked from where it lay on the bedside table over to the Muggle-made part of the room, and met Harry's eyes as he paused from writing some sort of Ministry crap to turn around.

"Hedwig dropped it in," he looked apologetic, "I didn't- well, I tried not- to look at it as I put it there, but...well, you know..."

Draco turned to the left and found Hedwig in her cage, with her head under her wing.

"Oh. Um..thank you."

He turned back and closed the door softly, before hanging his coat up and removing his shoes, taking particular care today to place them on the mat, facing the same way, directly parallel with one another. Only when he was satisfied with them did he take a deep breath and make his way over to the bed. He picked the envelope up and read his name on the front...before going over to the window, to the right of Harry, and peeking through the curtains to see the people outside.

"Thank the lord for fire exits," he muttered under his breath.

"How was your day?" he added in a much lighter- and louder- voice.

"Draco," Harry reminded him, his eyes never leaving the screen- nor his fingers the keyboard, "looking out of the window and making conversation won't make the letter from Azkaban go away. _Read_ _it_. Then you can make small talk."

Reluctantly, Draco tore himself away from the corner of the window, going over to where his letter lay and picking it up gingerly with two fingers. It was like a cursed necklace or something similar which he needed to be careful with. He didn't want to get poisoned. Positioning himself on the edge of the bed, he unfolded the paper and took out a strip of slightly grubby parchment. Obviously, Azkaban either had funding issues or shared the same opinions as Hedwig. He started to read.

"This letter is addressed to one Draco Malfoy," he proclaimed in a mock-grand voice, "of blah, blah, blah, arrangements, blah blah, blah, it has come to our attention-"

"Draco," Harry's voice cut in sharply over him, "Come on, now. This is no mockery."

Draco resolved to read the rest of the letter in silence; the ending lines, however, he read out again, with his own voice.

"Your application and request for an _assisted_ _prison_ _visit_ have been approved. The date and time for your arrival, Mr Malfoy, are as follows;" Draco's voice fizzled out into a soft whisper, and he gulped before reading the next part. "Thursday, the...10th of June, at eleven a.m. exactly, to visit one...one..."

"Draco.." Harry's tone was smooth, tender, soothing.

"To visit one Lucius Malfoy," Draco stammered. His hands shook slightly, and in a moment Harry was there, sitting by him, holding them."I'm fine, Harry. Really. I'm...ok."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes, he did. Draco talked about the whole ordeal; how he felt about the imprisonment, his scorn for his father for doing something so stupid in his old age, amongst other things. The butterflies that flitted about in His stomach every time he thought about the coming prison visit. His fears of returning, once more, to Azkaban. Facing the Dementors again. Facing his Father again; what was he supposed to say to Lucius? Would Draco be expected to agree completely with what his father had done? Would Lucius be able to accept that his son did not approve of the life his father led?

He rocked into Harry's chest, and arms, and face and hair and hands eyes mouth hair nose chest arms-

And Harry relaxed him; he took Draco's racing pulse and kneaded it with his hands, making it soft and flexible. He soothed Draco's worries and, when he'd calmed Draco down, lay with him in compatible silence. Eventually, it was broken.

"Oh, Harry," Draco sighed, "take me out."

"When?" replied Harry.

"Take me out all night. To take my mind off this damn father of mine," Draco continued, hardly pausing to take a breath, "Come on, Harry. Please."

"Mmmm- not tonight." Harry chuckled at the obvious slump in Draco's stance."Tomorrow. I promise, pet."

He felt Draco smile into his chest, and was confused when the smile suddenly faded.

"Don't call me pet," grumbled Draco, "it's annoying."

"You call me _doll_!"

"So?"

"_So_, I can call you 'pet' if I want to. It's only fair play."

"Hmmm...I suppose," Draco purred, "I don't care what you call me as long as you take me out tomorrow night and I get bloody _hammered_."

Harry laughed and promised Draco he would; he accepted the kiss approached to him, responding and deepening it. Eventually, they broke away.

"Come on, you," Harry whispered, "it's getting late and you'll need to be up early tomorrow. Goodness knows how we're going to get past the _Camera Shutter & Older Women's Union_ out there though; we'll have to become secretly invisible overnight."

"Oh. My. God!" Draco suddenly exclaimed, "The perfect way to get past them! _Invisible_!"

Both of them looked over to where Harry's Invisibility Cloak was folded neatly in a drawer. Then, they cursed themselves for being so stupid as not to use it in the mornings.

"Shit. If only I could have thought of that _before_ the...Incidents!"

Draco laughed, lay back down in a better position and graced Harry's lips with his own.

Silly Gryffindor.

**A/N: **Fabrielle**, **Darloudasha **(=]), **XAnnabubbleX**: CHEERS =D**


	13. Wednesday: Hammered

_**A While In The Life…: Hammered**_

From outside the door came drunken giggles. Accompanied, a hissed quieting-down from a steadier- but not _quite_ steady- voice. There was a rattling; somebody was trying to open the door. They seemed to have missed the keyhole a couple of times, but persisted either way.

"Come on, Harry," a slurred voice whispered; evidently, the main culprit of giggles, "It's like you're as drunk as I am!"

A deeper, more controlled laughter added to the giggling, and there was a click in the keyhole as the key found its lock.

"Ah- there it is," the lower voice chipped in, "and you were saying?"

The door was flung open and a hand flicked out to catch it just before it hit the wall and bounced off the collection of jackets and scarves hung there.

"Whoopsie..." A hiccup.

Harry came into view from the doorframe, staggering slightly. With his arms around Harry's neck came Draco, eyes half-closed, still giggling to himself. Harry had one of his arms around Draco's shoulder to support him, but still they zigzagged around slightly before reaching their bed. Completely hammered; just as Draco had asked.

(The curtains flashed brilliantly at this time of darkness; all of the reporters who had glimpsed them coming in were hoping for a repeat performance of a few days ago, when their camera flashes had created silhouettes of Draco and Harry near the window. However, as much as the cameras flashed, this time there were no male couples to be seen.)

Harry had Draco positioned against the bed and was struggling to unbutton the incredibly intoxicated man's shirt. Losing their balance, they tumbled down onto the sheets; Harry was almost entirely on top of his drunken lover.

"Trying to entice me, Harry?" Draco pulled at Harry's shirt, drawing them closer and making suggestive noises. "You're taking advantage, _naughty_..." He hiccupped.

"No," Harry hissed, leaning away from Draco's hot breath and tugging at him, "I'm _trying_ to get you up so that I can undress you properly for _bed_. Now, come on- come- _ugh_!"

He gave up on hauling Draco into a standing position, and let him flump back down. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt, and tossed both of them to the ground. His belt, shoes, trousers and socks followed, landing in a heap. He could organise everything in the morning; he worked at home on Thursdays. Harry grabbed the loose-fitting 'throw-over' shirt that Draco had bought him last Christmas (Harry was sure it was what women wore over bikinis, and even after Draco's protesting refused to wear it in public, making it his super-comfortable night wear. He wore it every night, and it got washed once a week.)

After Harry had brushed his teeth and washed his face, he returned to the bed and looked upon Draco, sleeping as soundly as wouldn't have been thought possible in his sprawled out position- fully dressed in formal attire. At the pub, they had been looked on as two mates having a beer and a laugh after work. How wrong. Harry sighed, knowing that he wouldn't sleep unless Draco was seen to and put to bed properly.

"I _knew_ I should never have let you taste that Vodka," he grumbled, undressing Draco as tenderly as he could. After all the clothes were off, Harry looked about him at the piles of clothes, and cursed his need for tidiness as he went about unsteadily picking them up and putting them in to wash.

Eventually, he went back to Draco and lifted him gently (as gently as he could after a few dozen shots, that is) to the other side- Harry's side- of the bed. Then, after pulling the duvet back as far as possible without touching him, Harry replaced Draco on his own side. He tucked Draco's feet into the covers, and pulled the patterned duvet back, over the sleeping figure. Taking care not to wake him, Harry turned Draco's head so that it faced the centre of the bed. He then placed a soft, loving kiss onto Draco's drunken forehead and stumbled slightly into the bathroom.

When he returned he had a sachet of Hangover-Reducing Potion in one hand, and a glass in another. He set them down on the coffee table on Draco's side of the bed, smug that there need be no incantations for the potion to work. One way to outsmart the landlord; he need never know. Another thought occurred to him, and this time he returned from the bathroom with a packet of paracetamol in his hand, with a bottle filled with tap water. He wrote on a sticky-note and attached it to the two Muggle items.

**EVERY FEW HOURS. JUST TRY IT. X**

Quietly, he slipped into bed, next to the beautiful sleeping Draco. Who, apparently, had been awake all this time.

"Mmmm," he mumbled, "Harry. What'cha put on the table?"

Harry chuckled as an arm draped itself across him. Typical (drunk) Draco.

"Just some medicine for the morning," he whispered, "Muggle _and_ wizard. Don't worry."

"Hmmm, I might," Draco replied drowsily, his mouth hardly opening to get the words out, "G'night, doll..."

Harry sighed. Draco had to be up early in the morning.

"Yup," he murmured, kissing Draco's hair, "goodnight, pet."

**A/N: Thanks to **XAnnabubbleX**,** Darloudasha** et** Ravenstar-of-ShadowClan **(someone new? YAY!) kthxbai.**


	14. Thursday: Lamppost

_**A While In The Life…: Lamppost**_

Harry sat on his personal window-seat, looking out upon the lamppost and slightly thinning crowd outside. He deliberately faced away from the door, his face and his body, focusing instead on what was directly in front of him. There was a small amount of stuff about to peel off of the street light; Harry could see where the bronze-looking metal came through the faded blue paint, and what looked like pink plaster. Smiling impishly to himself, he unlocked the window catch and gave it a good shove. It collided with the lamppost perfectly, hitting hardest at the peeling paint and scraping it off altogether.

As the crowd tittered amongst themselves, entertained at this unexpected burst of action, Harry remembered himself and stuck his head out of the window, causing much loudness and exclamations. He gave a cheery wave and shouted,

"Just making it easier for the poor man who'll get paid to do that in about three days!"

Pulling his head back and closing the window catch once more, Harry shook his head. He knew far too much about the re-painting system. He had written to complain about the positioning of that darned lamppost, but to no avail; there it was and there it stayed. Every month or so a man from the _Government-Of-People-Who-Weren't-Afraid-Of-Heights_ was sent to scrape off all of the parts of the lamppost which needed a re-paint. The only problem was that, after it had been painted over, the clean new blue stood out against the dingy, dirty blue so clearly that it made the aberrations even more obvious. Some caring government that was, for sure.

"Dear lord," Harry sighed, "I need a life."

But he had one. One which was currently alone in a prison hall.

Harry sighed again, and checked his watch. Two pm. Draco's appointment had been at eleven; in the morning...Harry hadn't thought to ask how long visiting hours were, so he didn't know what time to expect Draco back. He reckoned they couldn't last more than two hours, surely; especially for cases such as Lucius Malfoy. He didn't even know if Draco would stay the entire time...but, supposing he did, he would be out by one. This left him an hour to Apparate back into London, and travels the journey to the flat Muggle-style. Which normally took about half an hour.

(Due to the landlord's strictness, they couldn't Apparate within a mile of the place in case someone saw them and had an episode. As if Draco _or_ Harry would ever be that _stupid_, as to Apparate somewhere where they'd be seen. Smarmy little-)

Harry inhaled sharply, and calmed himself. Unlike Draco, he had that knack to get himself out of an aggravation before his emotions got out of hand. He checked his watch again, and got out of his chair, pacing restlessly around the room. The time was now three.

It was nearly four when the door clicked unlocked; Harry was sitting in a chair from the dinner table, leaning forwards with his hands supporting his temples. He sat up at the sound, and saw Draco slip quietly through the door. He looked resigned as he took off his coat and hung it up on the rack. His face was drawn and closed as his two sets of shoelaces were untied, and the shoes placed on the shelf close to the floor. When he rose to face Harry, he seemed to let nothing slip from his facial expression about how the visit was. This made it clear to Harry that something was wrong.

Tentatively, he asked, "How was it?"

A pause. "...Draco?"

Draco, beautiful, brooding Draco, went over to their bed and sat down on it. He blew out a mouthful of air and leaned forward-almost slumping- to run his hands through his hair. When he raised his head to look at Harry, there was hope in his eyes. Hope, regret and pure emotion.

"It's over, Harry," escaped his lips, dry from dehydration, "I'll never see him again. I'm...free.

..At last."

Harry's forehead creased as he contemplated Draco's words.

"Free? From what?"

"Not from _what_, from _whom_," sighed Draco, as he came over to kneel at Harry's waist, "from my father."

"I take it the visit didn't go too well, then?"

"Oh, yes. It went well. _Extremely_ well." He sounded weary, like someone who was getting too tired for all of this.

Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for Draco to elaborate.

"I confronted him about his Death Eater behaviour. He confronted me about my relationship with you. I told him to go fuck Nagini; he tried to assault me, got manhandled by several bulky men and was dragged off screaming. Something about how he never wanted to see me again. _Result_."

"And that's good, _how_?" Harry was shocked at this sudden information.

"Harry, don't you see?" Draco kneeled up to be level with Harry's nose, and pulled his lover's head down with two hands so that their foreheads touched, "it's all worked out for the better. I never have to look that bastard in the eye and lie to him again, and we can _be_ together. At last. Properly, _be_. We can be _happy_, Harry!" He pressed his lips onto Harry's own, and kissed him until he had something else to say.

"No complications," he whispered into Harry's mouth.

"So are you saying, Draco, that everything's going to be _normal_ again? Back to how it was before?"

Draco's eyes closed and he nodded, smiling, at Harry.

"I do think so, yes," he murmured. "Well. Except for one thing."

"Yeah? What would that be?"

Draco opened his eyes and nodded in the direction of the curtain. Their fair closeness to it, and the dark, surprisingly dingy June afternoon outside, had given paparazzi the perfect silhouette.

_Oh, crap._

**A/N- Thank'ees for **Insanely Me**, **XAnnabubbleX **and **Hanai-kun**, you're all awesome. And I have a feeling I missed someone out =S**

**(If that someone is you, please cyber!slap me C=)**


	15. Friday: Dishes

_**A While In The Life…: Dishes**_

"That was lovely," Draco said appreciatively, licking off the tips of his fingers, "very, um..._exotic_."

"_Exotic_, huh?" Harry lay next to Draco, on his back on the floor with his eyes closed. "I spend an hour cooking a three-hundred-course meal, and all you can say is _exotic_?"

"Well, I didn't think that e_rot_ic was appropriate in the context, so..."

Harry smiled but didn't respond. His fingers tapped a rhythm on his stomach to the ballad-y song playing on the radio. Admittedly, it was quite melodic, but Draco didn't care much for Muggle music, however lovely it might be. He shrugged his shoulders, and was swatted lightly; presumably because Harry had predicted exactly his opinions on the music choice. Leaning down, he flicked the end of Harry's nose before jumping up and scarpering away to the kitchen. Whilst he was washing his hands, Harry's voice popped up from behind.

"Draco," it called, and Draco could tell Harry was smiling, "why didn't you take your plate out?"

_What_ _plate_? Draco thought, rubbing his hands in the thick, foamy water and thinking of that relaxed smile. _Oh_, it occurred to him as he lowered his eyes to the sink, _that plate_.

"What plate?" he called, as innocently as he could muster.

"The one you've just eaten on, idiot!" Harry replied. The water was running fairly forcefully, so when Draco cut it off, Harry's reaction was slightly slow; "_COME AND GET IT BEFORE IT_- oh- come and bring it out, before it starts to crust!"

Draco chuckled- _not giggled_- to himself and turned around to jean against the surfaces, holding a partially-used tea towel in his hands.

"Potter," he said, "_Calm_ _down_. I was only washing the grease off of my hands from your _delicious_ food and my saliva."

"Lovely."

"Why, isn't it just," Draco teased, throwing the tea-towel to try and land on its rightful towel-rack and going to pick it up where it landed on the floor. A moist-material sound, moving away from the sink, made Draco wince; leaning against a wet sink was never a good idea. A thought occurred to him.

"Harry, it's Friday!"

"Your point being..."

"I don't clear up on Fridays! It's your-"

"Ah-ah-ah! Hush, Draco," Harry cut in. "I cooked, remember. _I_ cooked the million courses, so _you_ have to clear it all out!"

Draco harrumphed. "Now, that's just cheating," he scowled, "you can't _get out_ of cleaning by cooking the meal…there should be a law…"

He wandered back into the main room and over to where Harry sat propped up on his elbows, next to the remnants of their dinner. Harry laughed at the sullen expression on his face.

"Don't worry; I'll do it tomorrow," he teased, "unless that would mess up the rota, of course."

"Well, _I_ don't see why we can't _both_ do it- that's what couples are supposed to do, isn't it?" Draco had his back to Harry as he sauntered back out into the kitchen armed with plates, cutlery and some bottle or another of sauce. Harry got up, stretching, and followed after him.

"Oh, yes," he said sardonically, "cleaning filthy dishes; how _romantic!_"

He swept an arm around Draco's waist and pulled him closer, using one hand to pass over dirty washing-up for Draco to scrub. He pressed his head against Draco's shoulder, humming.

"_..and the most she will do is throw shadows at you.."_ he whispered softly, tickling Draco's neck.

"Oh, Harry," Draco sighed dramatically, "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you really _can't_ sing to save your life."

"Hush, you," replied Harry, smiling, "I know. I still do it though. Can't break my spirit, Draco," he added in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Draco mumbled irritably.

There were a few moments that passed without converse. Until, predictably, it was broken by Draco.

"So then, Harry. How are you enjoying _normal_?"

"Mmm, it's very nice," murmured Harry, "Calm. _Extremely_ relaxed. I think _normal_ is an appropriate disguise for_ contentment._"

"Oh, good," replied Draco. "I was worried you wouldn't like it."

"What, me? Never."

Draco let out a little _Hmph_ in satisfaction. He returned his hands to the frothy water, set upon cleaning the damn dishes (Harry seemed to have used about a million different items whilst cooking. Git.)

"Oh, and one more thing," he said.

"Mmm?"

"You're washing up tomorrow."

**A/N: Aargh! A little late, but..oh well. Thank yous to the following; **BeautifulButDeadly** and **Darloudasha**. Niceness ^-^**


	16. Saturday: Soundtrack

_**A While In The Life…: Soundtrack**_

"Turn it off."

"Nope."

"_Harry_!"

A radiant laugh erupted into the room, accompanied by an audible growl. Not that anyone could have heard it over the raucous soundtrack booming from the stereo. Draco had been trying to ignore it and get on with his report for the past forty-five minutes, whilst Harry hummed along like a lunatic (of course, _he_ could work with that _racket_ blaring out of his bloody _stereo_ all the time), but had become increasingly annoyed to the point where he'd marched over to Harry's corner and screamed. The twit still wouldn't leave him any peace.

"But Draco, you don't _understand_," Harry was arguing, "This _means_ a lot to me!"

"Well, it doesn't mean _anything_ to _me_!" Draco hollered back, "I don't _care_ about some green person who can fly, it's nothing special; I've been seeing it for the past... well, ever since I learnt how to ride a broom!"

"WHAT?" Harry bellowed, cupping a hand to his ear, "WHAT WAS THAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Draco threw his hands up in despair and looked around him. He knelt down to where the eleckticity came from, and found an assortment of 'plugs'. Confused, he looked back up to the stereo and traced a blue cord to one of the oddly-shaped plugs in the eleckticity source. Smiling slightly, he pulled the plug out of its three holes and embraced the immediate silence that followed.

"_Just you and_- hey!"

"_Finally_, some _peace_ and _quiet_," Draco savoured the absence of sound and went back to his report after ruffling the top of Harry's confused head.

Harry turned around to watch him go, and something occurred to him. As he opened his mouth to put it into words, Harry scratched his ear.

"Draco," he asked, "how did you turn the sound off?"

"Oh, thanks. I'm not as stupid and un-Muggle-ized as you reckon, you know," Draco replied, without raising his eyes, "how do you _think_ I turned the sound off? Einstein."

"No, but seriously. How? I swear, last time I looked, you knew _nothing_ about Muggle _contraptions_!" Harry's forehead creased. "You were scared of a DVD, for crying out loud!"

"Like I said, not as un-Muggle-ized as you think," Draco said, raising his head to stare Harry down, "I simply traced the blue cord to where its _plug_ was on that elecktaric thing, and pulled the _plug_ out of its hole. It's not rocket science, fool."

Harry was still as confused as ever, and Draco took pity on him, leaving his report to go over to the Muggle corner.

"Oh, look at you, all befuddled," Draco cooed, planting himself on Harry's lap, "someone needs to learn a bit of _common sense_ and think about what it is I do when they're not here, don't they?"

"Shut up."

Draco laughed his medium-pitch, tinkling, melodic laugh and flicked Harry's nose before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped one side of Harry's face with his hand, and felt Harry's dark hair lean into the touch as he gasped slightly, deepening the kiss. Jesus Christ, that man had a way of turning Draco on.

Draco realised he was thinking about Harry again, and a wide grin spread on his face. A sigh escaped his lips, and Harry broke apart to examine Draco's exuberance.

"What are you so happy about, Slytherin?"

Draco said nothing but captured Harry's lips, and his face, and his shoulders and neck and hands, in soft, tender kisses. He leaned into Harry's neck and sighed again, content with his current situation.

"I don't know. It must be the effect you have on me, Potter," he smiled.

**A/N: You may have noticed that Harry likes music. This particular soundtrack was that of Wicked, and the words Harry was singing when Draco pulled the plug were from Defying Gravity. (If you don't know it, YOUTUBE!)**

**Thank ya: **Hanai-kun** and **Darloudasha**. Yay for support! ^-^**


	17. Sunday: Awkward Silence

_**A While In The Life…: Awkward Silence**_

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, in silence, on his computer. His ears yearned to hear something other than the clicks of his keyboard and the occasional beeps which meant he had made a mistake. The awkward silence gave Harry a feeling that his every move was being tracked by the completely-at-ease head in the other corner of the room. Annoyingly, Harry had a song in his head that very moment and longed to hum, or at least tap a rhythm, along to it. But he wouldn't dare move a finger in fear of the reaction from the one person in the room (and probably one person in the country) who would pick up on something like that. Before Harry's fingers landed on the desktop for the first tap, his critic would have been there like a shot, complaining about the noise.

On the other side of the room, said critic was doing nothing at all. Draco sat at his desk, with his quill hovered over his letters, and his eyes closed. He was listening _very_ closely to the sound of silence. Something which Draco had missed very _dearly_ since he had been living in this flat. He breathed in, and could hear the air rushing through his lips. He held it for as long as he could, and almost laughed in glee when he could hear that little croaky sound which meant his throat was having a hard time keeping the air in.

(Usually when he tried this, he could only _feel_ the sound, rather than _hear_ it. It was such a...such a _relief_ that he could still produce that sound and be able to _hear_ it.)

Draco breathed out evenly and opened his eyes. Before they were fully open he knew that, on the other side of the room, Harry was having a hard time keeping his voice in his head and his hands to his work. Draco smiled devilishly, deciding that he was going to have a bit of fun. He took his quill, siphoned the ink off of it and held it upside down. Making sure that there was unwanted parchment underneath where his hand hovered, Draco stabbed down with the upturned quill and watched Harry visibly jump at the sudden noise.

He scratched, hard, into the parchment. Harry shuddered, but tried to contain himself.

Without his eyes leaving Harry's back, Draco let out a loud sigh and picked up a rejected letter. He ripped it in half, ripped it again and tossed the pieces into the air. They fluttered noisily back onto the floor.

Harry's hands paused on his work, and he looked like he was contemplating turning around and asking Draco to either keep it down or put something on the stereo. (Draco smirked. He could read Harry like a book. And a very simple book at that, with large pictures and two or three sentences to a page.) Instead, he shook his head and continued his typing. A few moments of blessed silence continued, and Harry wondered whether Draco had done those things deliberately, or if it was something he did everyday and Harry just didn't notice because of his music. Draco smirked as he guessed exactly what Harry was thinking.

"Potter," he said, getting up and grabbing some Muggle money, "Back in a bit."

Harry started, looking up from his work to turn around and stare.

"But where are you-" The front door slammed and a couple of letters fluttered from their place on Draco's desk- "going?"

He was answered with the soft _sssshh_ of parchment coming into contact with the glazed wood floor. Sighing, Harry pushed himself away from his desk and went over to pick up the letters. He stacked them before placing them upon Draco's desk. Glancing at the name at the top of one, Harry gulped.

Astoria.

He had only met that woman twice; first, nineteen years after the Battle of Hogwarts, when he had nodded to Draco from across Platform Nine And Three Quarters. It was just a glance in a crowd of people. As for the second time... Harry didn't really want to think about that particular memory. At the moment, in terms of hating Harry, Astoria could have given Voldemort a run for his money. Well. If Voldemort was alive, that is.

Harry returned to his work, slightly disenchanted from his trip down Memory Lane. After a while of working, he heard the latch on the door click open. Something hard and compact was lobbed at his head. It hurt. Leaning down to pick it up with a hand to his hair, he picked up the little package and turned it over.

One pair of excruciatingly Muggle headphones. Apple. Perfect. Harry smiled and looked at Draco, who was already sat at his desk, innocently writing his letters.

**A/N: The song Harry had in his head was Blue Eyes by Mika. … Don't ask.**

**Thank you, **Darloudasha** =D**


	18. Monday: Windows

_**A While In The Life…: Windows**_

Harry stood, admiring the framework on the vast windows before him. One of the reasons he had leaned toward buying this place, when viewing with Draco, was because of the intricate and beautiful design. The window was split up into three main parts; one line of frame to the left of his left hand veered up diagonally to the left, whilst the frame on his right veered up in the opposite direction. It was almost like one of those 'Are These Lines Straight?' illusions that were found on the Internet. Either way, it created a lovely effect, looping in with the unparallel structure of the massive room. It was hard to believe that a room such as this wasn't used for small parties and dos. It was large enough, when empty, to hold probably fifty people, with space between for an arm or a leg.

The one room served as a study for Draco on one side and a technical place for Harry on the other _(the two preferred to work away from distractions- however, this theory was often failed…)_; a bedroom, with its big bed in the middle and its soft carpeted floor surrounding it _(with nothing to hold on to, Draco often found himself off the bed and on the cold, hard floor when he woke in the middle of the night, the bony twit. After a few weeks of aches and pains, Harry bought the rugs custom-made, layering them heavily on Draco's side of the bed.)_; it was a kitchen, with a single section cordoned off for cooking and cleaning. The only real separate room in the entire flat was that of a washroom; shower, bath and toilet intact. _(Neither Harry nor Draco thought it would be a particularly good idea to have all that running water and lack of privacy in the main room. Also, they didn't want any visitors to think they were fucking freaks.)_

Harry sighed, taking in his home, and turned again to examine the windows. Literally taller than he was by about a metre, they towered up and drenched the room with sun; the reason their electric bill was so cheap was because they practically never had to turn on the lights! The windows took up most of one wall, with fairly thin strips of painted plaster either side. The curtains were deep red, a colour which wasn't too obvious, but regained style. Looking around and seeing all the reds and whites and pale, creamy yellows, Harry was surprised to remember that it was in actual fact Draco who chose the colour scheme; one of the agreements on buying the flat. Harry had cringed at the thought and come to see Draco's ideas with dread, expecting a major occurrence of dark green and silver. Speaking of Draco, a voice cut over the admiration, catching Harry from his reverie and planting him back in the London flat.

"You used those apple things yet?" Draco's head came up to spy Harry by the windows. Harry turned in confusion, meeting his eyes.

"What _apples_?"

"You know," Draco's forehead creased, "that _apple_ device I went and got yesterday."

"Oh, the _headphones_," Harry realised, and went and found them. Draco shrugged. "No, I haven't, actually. Oh- and it's _Apple_, not _apple_."

"Whatever. Same thing to me," Draco said nonchalantly, "I don't make the bloody things."

"Hmmm."

Harry was fumbling around with his Mac, turning it on whilst Draco's quill scratched on his parchment.

"Who are you writing to?" he called, from the back of the screen (Harry was trying, not with all that much success, to find the headphone slot).

"Harry, you know it's Astoria. I saw the letters were in the wrong order after you put them back last night, of course you saw her name at the top of the page."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, I won't penalise you for nosiness. Because that's what it is, you know, Harry."

"Mmmm…Draco, if you're writing to Astoria," Harry questioned, "does that mean it's nearing _That Time Of The Month_ again?"

"Yep, 'fraid so," Draco replied, "they just seem to creep up on you when you least expect it, don't they? Women."

But Harry was already leant back in his high computer chair, listening to some or other up-beat song that nobody knew. Draco sighed, and got back to writing to _Astoria_. Harry would get his payback when _his_ letter arrived from the Weaselette.

**A/N: ZOMG the song Harry was listening to was going to be something from the album Rockin' The Suburbs by Ben Folds, but on listening to this awesome song I decided to change it. song: Effington- University A Cappella Version (by The Newtones from Newton). It is BLOODY AMAZING.**

**And, of course, my thank yous today go to: **XAnnabubbleX**, **BlackCatHikari **=]**


	19. Tuesday: Letters

_**A While In The Life…: Letters**_

The first thing Draco saw when he threw open the door and officially Came Home was the owl waiting at Harry's window. (Harry's window was on a different wall to _The Windows_.) He groaned in instant recognition of the bird; its copper and russet feathers had made frequent visits to the flat, and none had ended particularly well. And it always left its damn feathers everywhere to clash with the carefully organized surroundings. Stupid flying malting biting owl. Draco went over to the window and opened it for him (or her. Draco really didn't know. Or care to know, for that matter.)

Once it had settled itself on Harry's desk, and Draco had shooed it off to somewhere less technical lest it should malt or...other things...the slightly scruffy-looking owl had itself perched on top of Hedwig's cage (who, rather irritably, ruffled her feathers and turned her back on him) and was still. It didn't move an inch whilst Harry wasn't there, but glared at Draco as if it were his fault the other man was late returning from work.

"Don't look at me like that," he hissed across the room at it, "I don't run the bleeding Ministry, do I? It's not _my_ fault he's-" The rest of his sentence was cut off by the door opening. The owl lifted itself from Hedwig's cage and fluttered across to where Harry was taking off his shoes. Leaving about ten feathers in its wake.

"Oh."

"It's for you," drawled Draco monotonously.

"Err, I gathered," replied Harry, picking the letter from the owl's leg and trying not to touch its talons. "When did it get here?"

Draco raised his head. "I don't- well, it was there on your window ledge when I got in, but I don't know how long it had been waiting. That thing never shows any signs of exhaustion. Actually... I think it's an android."

Harry broke out into laughter, and wove his way across the carpet and tiled wood to place a kiss on Draco's cheek.

"Hello, Draco," he whispered.

"Hello," answered Draco smoothly, "how was your day?"

"Pretty uneventful," Harry sighed into Draco's hair, sniffing his wonderful scent of washing powder and... Lynx? Yes, Lynx. Odd. "How was yours?" he continued.

"Ruined by feathers."

Harry huffed, remembering the impatient owl perched on the floor somewhere, and left Draco's warm side to go and open his letter from Ginny. It was the usual kit and caboodle; money, permission for school trips, lectures, complaints, comments on the publicity, remarks about Draco and what not. No matter how hard or how subtly that woman tried, she could never conceal her coldness towards Draco. She could never quite master the knack of forgiveness over time. And there had been a _lot_ of time.

Harry concentrated on writing back, answering all of her casual questions and business-like requests, and rebuffing the subtly unkind comments as amiably and open-mindedly as he could, so as not to spark a fight; so as to have the last laugh.

Once he had completed it, attached his three personal letters for her to pass on to Lily, James and Al.  
(He knew she never gave them to their recipients; still, he wanted to make sure he at least made the effort to reach them. When they were confident enough to march round to his London flat and tell them what they thought of him, nobody could say he hadn't tried- Harry kept copies of every letter he sent home.)

Harry sealed the Muggle envelope with a good old-fashioned lick, and he tied it back onto the owl's scrawny leg and let it out through the window. Draco watched him through his eyelashes as he bent his head forward to make it look like he was interested in whatever it was he was doing.

"So," Harry exhaled, "that's another month done."

"Yeah. Another," Draco replied quietly, and leaned into Harry's hand where it landed on his shoulder.

Harry pulled up a chair and sat with Draco as he worked. Neither of them said a word; instead, Draco wrote out work-related documents and Harry leant a head on his shoulder.

There wasn't really much to say that could leave one's head safely.

**A/N: Right. I've been getting some confused responses about Astoria. And, err, I'm beginning to fail myself. Basically, Astoria is Draco's wife. I ****thought**** that this was mentioned in the epilogue, but apparently not; J K Rowling just describes her and doesn't name her. So then, I thought I must have saw Astoria mentioned in this "Year In The Life of J K Rowling" documentary, where she produces this big mind map of who marries who. But I'm actually beginning to wonder if it was that too. What may have happened is that some clever person made it up for a fanfic, which I read, and it registered itself in my brain as being canon. Either way, she's Draco's wife and Scorpius' mother- at least for the purposes of **_**A While In The Life…**_**, anyway. =]**

**Thank ya-s: **zombie slayan war veteran**, **XAnnabubbleX**, **Darloudasha**, **BlackCatHikari** =D**


	20. Wednesday: Receipt

_**A While In The Life…: Receipt**_

"Draco!" Harry quickly stuffed the receipt he had been examining back where he found it- underneath one of Draco's books on the floor- and turned to the sound of the door opening to see Draco enter, looking slightly flustered.

"Hey. Harry," Draco replied, his eyebrows creasing slightly, "There's, like ten people out there. I thought it had all blown over? I mean, it was...what, it can't have been less than two weeks now, the arrest and- and stuff?"

Harry went over to _his_ windows and peeked out sideways to see about a dozen members of the press huddled outside; some of them stared eagerly at _the_ windows whilst others looked bored and like they didn't get paid enough. Harry smiled; he recognised those drab faces.

"Draco, don't worry." Harry turned around to find Draco sat back against the bed, searching through something in his bag. "That's just the normal lot. You know, the dozen or so people that stood outside our home _before_ your father got arrested. Just back to normal."

Draco looked up, uncertain. "You sure?"

"Draco, how could I forget those same faces when they've been eroding the pavement outside for the entire time we've been living here? I would know if anything were out of the ordinary," Harry pressed, looking into Draco's concerned grey irises, "Trust me."

Consent was nodded, and Draco returned to whatever it was he was looking for. Harry went to sit by him, wondering aloud what it was Draco yearned for so dearly.

"Nothing...just a book," Draco replied distractedly, "I think I might have left it somewhere in work, or on _Muggle_ _transport_. Oh, god-"

"Oh, is this the one you want?" Harry reached for the book he had been examining before Draco came in, making sure the mysterious receipt was nowhere to be seen, concealed within pages.

Draco took it warily, as if he half expected something to pop out of it. "Yeah... thanks."

"Draco..."

"Yes." Draco's tone was controlled and suspicious. He eyed Harry up.

"You know when you went out the other night and got my headphones- which I'm bloody thankful for by the way, they're great-"

"Harry, come on. Spit it out, I haven't got all day."

"Well, it's nothing, really, but... What exactly did you _buy_?"

Draco's eyes flickered in recognition. He hesitated before answering. "Your headphones, of course. I had hardly any Muggle money on me, what else _could_ I have bought?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and inhaled- audibly- before responding.

"Draco, you smell nice," he said innocently, "Like some sort of minty confectionary. I noticed that yesterday, actually.."

Harry eyed Draco with suspicion, and grabbed his book. He flipped it until the well-hidden receipt fell out, and picked it up.

"Oi, you!" Draco protested, "Give me back my- _oh_."

"Two cans of Lynx. The chocolate one; a minty one." Harry read off the thin slip of paper, holding it above Draco's head and rebuffing Draco's clawing hands. "Ooh- BOGOF. Bargain."

Draco growled.

"See, Draco? I _always_ told you the Muggle world would work its magic on you-" Harry chuckled at his own unintended joke- "if you'll excuse the pun, that is."

Draco screeched in frustration. Harry smiled. He was going to have some _fun tonight_.

**A/N: Astoria IS real, and official. She is the younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin in our Drarry's year. Check for yourself on the HP Wiki- I KNEW I wasn't making it up. Or deluded. … Ok, maybe just a **_**bit**_** deluded. Just a bit. A tad. ^-^**


	21. Thursday: Slipping Up

_**A While In The Life…: Slipping Up**_

"Draco."

"Hmmm."

They were curled up on the bed; Draco lay on his left side, with his eyes closed, and Harry was behind him, staring distantly at the street through the vast windows over Draco's dozing head. He had one arm draped around the other's slim waist, and one under his own head. Their legs were touching but not entwined, and Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder. It had been a long, hot day and by the time Draco had come home to meet Harry, he had more than enough frustration and heat to channel _elsewhere_. Now, Draco turned over and flattened Harry out in order to practically lay his entire body on his lover's chest. Once he was still, the silence was broken again.

"What's your favourite word, Draco?"

"Wha's _your_ favourite word?" Draco mumbled sleepily.

"Come on, now. I asked first," Harry complained quietly. "Draco?"

There was silence from the other man, but Draco somehow nudged Harry's chest with his forehead. Harry sighed.

"I don't know...I can never choose," he said softly, and paused, contemplating his next answer.

"Blasphemy. Spectacular," he listed, staring at a dot on the ceiling, "Jolokia. I really couldn't choose. What's _yours_, Draco?"

There was a slight pause; long enough for Draco to lift his head off of Harry's chest in order to answer him.

"Git."

Draco rolled off of Harry, off of the bed and padded over to the windows, stretching. He glanced at the radio and saw it was almost eight.

"Ugh," he groaned, squinting, "I'm sure there's a law against being so tired this early."

"Come on, now, Draco," Harry complained, ignoring Draco's last remark, "_Git_? _Seriously_?"

Draco turned and shrugged.

"What?" he said indifferently, "it's the one I use most."

Harry opened his mouth to rebut, but found it closed again. Draco did have a point; he said _git_ more than he said any word.

(And that was including all little words such as _you_, _me_ and _I_.)

Harry got up as well and wandered over to the kitchen area. He broke some bread off a loaf and went and flopped down in a chair, munching on it.

"Harry," a voice called and echoed across the room, "What's _your_ favourite...book? Or story? You know, from when you were a child?"

"Aha," Harry pointed an incriminating finger, "You got to bend the rules last time. Now it's my turn. _You_ say."

"_Me_?" Draco looked slightly shocked. "You think that _I_ read _books_ when I was little?"

Harry glared at him. _Ignorant gi- that is, ignorant twat_, he thought.

"Ok, _fine_. It... It'd probably be…the Three Brothers one. You know, the one in Beedle the Bard."

"Hmmm. A story about complete invisibility, a stone which brings back the dead and an unbeatable wand," Harry said dryly, "Now, _why_ doesn't that surprise me?"

"Oi, you!" he complained playfully, reaching over and thumping him "Don't be such an arse. Come on, what's yours?"

Harry stretched his arms above his head and brought them back down to rest in his lap.

"Hmmm. My favourite book.."

"Oh, what about that one you showed me? With the tights?"

"What, Peter Pan?" Draco nodded his approval. "Yeah...maybe. I've always liked Cinders, actually."

"What?"

"Cinders. Cinderella," Harry repeated slowly. He watched the grin spread on Draco's face, and heard the stifled laughter as he turned his back on Harry, concealing himself.

"_Seriously_?"

"Yeah." Harry was having slight déjà vu. He'd been through this before. Just with a different person.

"_Seriously_?" Draco hardly held back his guffaws, tears threatening to stream down his face. "Who would name something _Cinderella_? It sounds like some sort of-"

"Disease? Yeah, I know," Harry sighed. "Ro- er, I mean, um, _Hermione_ said that too once, back when we were at Hogwarts-um-"

Harry tried to avoid looking at Draco, but his slip-up couldn't be ignored. Draco turned back to face Harry and gave him the eyebrow.

"Harry, Granger is a _Muggle-born_. Of course she would know all your little Muggle children's tales." He turned his back on Harry again, folding his arms around his ribs and feeling the slight bruises still left over there*****.

"It's ok, you know. I won't kill you for saying his name."

Harry exhaled. "It's not just... that." he leant back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. "It..it brings back bad memories."

Draco moved slowly to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Harry's eyes fluttered open as a warm, slight hand covered his own. He turned his head to focus on Draco's eyes.

Beautiful, grey, bottomless eyes...

"Harry, it's over." They searched his face, hoping to find a flicker of response. Harry blinked. "It's all in the past...he can't hurt us anymore. Ronald Weasley cannot lay a finger on us."

Harry smiled faintly as lost memories- pushed back memories- floated to the top of his head; only to grimace immediately afterwards.

"No," he murmured, "he can't. Now shut up and kiss me before my eyes go fuzzy from staring at your mouth."

Draco smiled, placed a hand on Harry's cheek and obeyed willingly.

**A/N: **Koalasa**, **XAnnabubbleX** & **Darloudasha**, CHEERS!**

**I think that I might write a prequel to this; there's so much mention of bad memories, and Ron, Ginny and Astoria that it is getting a tad confusing. Also, there isn't really a plot. Hmm. I sort of have the prequel planned out in my head, so I'd just need to write it…**

***Chapter 4: Prison**


	22. Friday: Twenty To Two

_**A While In The Life…: Twenty To Two On A Saturday Morning**_

Harry turned a page of the little leather book, reading up what he had written so far. His scrawled handwriting was, at places, so bad he could hardly read it. His last entry had been particularly messy; but as Harry could remember, that wasn't entirely his fault. He looked down at the head of hair in his lap, and chuckled. He had neglected his dear journal quite terribly over the past three weeks; the last time he had written in it was before the arrest. He recalled that he had started out in his usual spot by the window, only to be persuaded into returning to the comfort of his bed by Draco.

The same had happened tonight; Harry had, once again, been sat at his window- carefully covered with his curtain- writing in his journal when Draco had come and grabbed him. He'd practically dragged Harry back by the hair and forced him to sit still whilst he positioned himself next to (i.e. on top of) his dark-haired, handsome man. It could have been worse; Draco could have stayed awake for the duration, delaying the completion of his long-awaited entry and making it awkward to write with the pen.

Speaking of which; Harry put his pen down and slotted it between two pages (an excellent method of keeping track of where he was). He closed the leather cover and placed it on the floor by the bed, not wanting to move too far for fear of waking Draco. He was contemplating how _he_ would get comfortable when a sleepy voice piped up from his abdomens.

"Harry," it yawned, "Whassa time?"

"It is... Twenty to two," Harry replied, craning his head to see the radio clock. "Twenty to two on a Friday night. Or Saturday morning, for that matter."

"Mmmm. 'Kay."

A thought occurred to Harry. "I thought you were asleep. ... Oh. Did I wake you?"

"Meh," Draco murmured, "I doze."

Harry nodded to himself, before another thought appeared in his unusually slow (slow tonight, at least) brain.

"Draco, dearest," he mused, "How am I supposed to sleep sitting up?

"Oh, you'll find a way," came the muffled reply from his abs, "I know plenty who sleep sitting up. Some even sleep _standing_ up. I even know a man who _snores_ whilst _awake_!"

Draco giggled sleepily, and let his limbs be dragged off of Harry. He kept his eyes closed when the lights were turned off and Harry's forehead pressed close against his own, snuggled down underneath the covers of the bed.

"Oh, Draco," Harry whispered into the night.

"Mmmm..."

"Where have the past few weeks _gone_?"

"Dunno.."

"I hadn't written for ages! You know when the last entry was? The _twenty-eighth_. Not even this month!"

"Yeah." Draco's eyelids were increasingly heavy.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in Draco's delicious scent. He sighed, and opened them again, restless.

"Oh, Draco. Let me take you away. Let me take you on a _holiday_."

"Kay." Draco's eyes fluttered, and opened. "What?"

"A holiday! Yeah...two weeks somewhere...somewhere nice. Somewhere _hot_."

"Ungh," was Draco's reply. "Whatever, mate."

Harry released his head from next to Draco's and looked out into the room, imagining sun and sea and sand and se- well. Sun and sea and sand.

"Yeah..._yeah_!" try as he might, Harry couldn't contain his excitement quietly. "Yeah, let's go to... to Tenerife! Or South Africa, watch the footie!"

"What? Footie-?-" Draco sighed, exasperated. "This all sounds _lovely_ and expensive, and I'm sure I will be completely _thrilled_ at the prospect, but can't we discuss it when I'm _not_ falling asleep and it's _not_ the early hours of the morning?"

Harry checked the time; ten past two. Wow, he'd been ranting for a while.

"Ok. Let's sleep."

"_Finally_…I thought you'd never ask," Draco whispered, giggling softly.

"Goodnight, Draco," Harry replied, equally as quiet.

There was no response from Draco except his deep, controlled breathing.

Harry took the sleeping form into his arms, with the top of Draco's head underneath his chin, and sighed contentedly. Complete and utter perfection. He _would_ take Draco away for a while. He'd show him _real_ fun; they'd go somewhere, on a plane. Draco could see the ocean from ten thousand feet, unaccompanied by a broomstick. And Harry could hold his hand if- i.e. _when_- he got scared.

_Yes_, Harry thought. _Yes_. This was going to be grand.

**A/N: See when I said I may write that prequel? Well, the thing is that it would be a **_**story-y**_** story rather than a **_**drabble-y**_** story like this one. So...I shall be carting Draco and Harry off on a plane (damn Muggle transport) and taking the time whilst they're away to write the prequel…**

**Also, I think that these chapters and things should stay **_**in**_** the flat, to really get a while in their lives. It would feel weird writing a chapter in a whole ****new**** setting in a ****different**** country and what have you. I'd like to keep the chapters in the flat ^-^**

**T.y: - **AlexandraOzera-Ivashkov** :-}**


	23. Saturday: Pricing

_**A While In The Life…: Pricing**_

Click. Click. There was a pause for a few moments whilst Harry's eyes scanned the page he was browsing, eyeing up numbers and reviews. There was silence...then.. Click. Double-click. Harry sighed and searched for some paper and a calculator. Galleons were so hard to convert to pounds. Especially with the whole no-magic boundary on the flat; it was becoming seemingly impossible to do everything the Muggle way. Damn landlord.

Draco was sprawled out on the bed, reading _A Bibliography of Common Fifteenth Century Potions and Remedies_, for work. What _joy_ his job gave him. He looked up from his novel as he heard Harry's frustrated sigh.

"Oh, dear," he called, "trouble in paradise?"

"Ugh, tell me about it," Harry responded, his head bent over dodgy calculations. "All of these deals are in pounds and pence, of course, and I'm trying to convert it all to Galleons to see which would be more worthwhile in using."

"... What?"

Harry swivelled his computer chair around to concentrate on Draco, rather than his pricing. "Basically, we could pay using Muggle money, which I have a lot of and would be able to provide single-handedly. _Or_, what we could do is pay by converting loads of Galleons into pounds. That's the Muggle stuff. And I have more Galleons than I have pounds; so do you. In fact, you have _only_ Galleons."

"And you're telling me this, why?"

"_Because_," Harry pressed on, using his hands to demonstrate, "it _might_ be cheaper to convert the Galleons- say it's, oh, I don't know, four thousand pounds in Muggle money. That could easily be three thousand something Galleons, because of the rate they're converted at. (Muggles don't really have that much use for wizard money, do they?) So what I'm trying to do _here_ is figure out the pricing for _Muggle_ money and _wizard_ money. Of course, I can't use magic to decide that- don't interrupt, Draco, I know he's a git- so I'm having to grab a calculator and scribble out workings. Even then, it'll be pretty hard to determine which to use, as we could share the deal in Galleons but not in Muggle, which leads me to consider halving prices and et cetera. Difficult stuff, actually, Draco."

He finished his speech with an accomplished nod. Draco paused, trying to make head and tail of any of it, before shrugging and returning to reading _Great-Great-Grandma's Guide To Potions_ reluctantly. He had given up.

"Why, _oh_ why did I _ever_ agree to his _bloody holiday_?" he muttered to himself, spitting out the word _holiday_ like it was some sort of life-threatening disease. "And what does a calculator even _do_?"

Harry, who had turned back to continue his planning, answered; Draco immediately flushed.

"It does your maths for you, Draco. Adds, subtracts, multiplies and divides. Like having an extra brain."

"Oh." Draco cringed, thinking of what he had said before the calculator comment. "You know what, Harry; sometimes I forget how quiet it is in here."

"Hell to the yes you do."

Harry returned to scribbling, clicking and typing. Even the sounds of his pen and mouse sounded irritated... Maybe even offended. Draco sighed, and tried to concentrate on _Ye Olde Booke Of Potions Crappe_; his mind, however, kept on drifting back to Harry and the things he had said under his breath. Draco hadn't meant for Harry to hear it, but as he said, often forgot how quiet it got in their little (well, rather big, actually) flat. Draco sighed, and watched as Harry put his headphones in, cranking up the volume of whatever stupid song was playing at the time.

In reality, Harry wasn't actually listening to anything on his Mac. He just wanted to concentrate on planning this little bit of free time, without distraction. And whilst he knew that Draco had not really been serious when muttering unfortunately loudly under his breath, Harry's spirit was dampened slightly. After about half an hour of working in silence, the tension in the air was too awkward to remain without music to help. Harry started the ball rolling with-ironically- a depressing song chosen at random, and continued into his scribbling with more heart.

Draco felt the mood immediately relax, if only slightly, when he could hear a faint sound coming from Harry's corner. He smiled, and listened out for the little hums and quiet warbles which meant Harry was completely at ease. He checked the clock, stifling a yawn, and saw that at was long past eleven. Eyeing up the old book in his hands, and the warm sheets underneath him, it wasn't hard for Draco to choose what to do next. He slipped off of the bed and over to where Harry's head was bobbing, removing a headphone from Harry's ear.

"I'm going to bed now. Don't stay up too late doing that," Draco bent down to talk directly into Harry's ear, avoiding his eyes, "and... I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Of _course_ I want to spend time out of the country with you; just ignore me next time, ok?"

"..Kay. Night, Draco," replied Harry, distractedly.

Draco pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head and returned to his bed, burying himself underneath the covers.

"Goodnight, Harry," he murmured.

**A/N: Depressing song: Hotel California. Need I say more? ^-^**

**TY- **Daughter-of-Poisden33**, **Chalcedony Rivers **(**** lovely name, that), **Mental Disturbed Social Retard** (another great name xD love it)** **and **Catindahat**. Awesomeness to you guys!**


	24. Sunday: Thinking

_**A While In The Life…: Thinking**_

"Draco," a tired voice mumbled, "I've been thinking."

"Oh, god. Do I need to sit down?"

"Ha ha." Harry turned over, onto his back, and scanned the room to find Draco… sorting through Harry's CDs. Odd.

"No, really," he continued, kicking the duvet off his legs, "I reckon _you_ should choose the deal we're to go with. You hardly get involved with anything I plan, so your input on this _would_ be greatly appreciated."

"You're basically saying 'come and choose something for us to buy so that I can make you pay half the price', aren't you?"

Harry sighed and got to his feet on the floor. Such a tight git sometimes, was Draco.

"I'm getting showered and dressed," he called as he wandered into the bathroom, "and I want you by that Mac when I'm done."

"Yes, Potter."

Draco smiled and shook his head, rummaging through Harry's annoying music collection. Something had spurred him into sorting them alphabetically; perhaps it was the whole lounging-around-and-waiting-for-Harry-to-wake-up which had gotten to him. Either way, he couldn't get out of it now that Harry was awake, so he shrugged and continued.

The time was eleven fifty-six. Draco had been up since half nine with nothing to do. He had _warned_ Harry against staying up too late; he'd _told_ him not to stay up all night, but had Harry listened? No he had _not_. He'd stumbled into bed at around five, falling asleep straight away. Thank god he only usually needed six hours of sleep, or Draco would have been doing nothing for hours more. The last CD slotted into place in Harry's little holder thing; yet there were still three empty slots. Draco made a mental note to go to that _HMV_ place when July swung round.

A sudden buzzing sound alerted Draco back into the real world; Harry, with sexy wet hair, had turned on his computer and was looking at Draco expectantly.

"I'm ready, Draco," he said over computer beeps, "Come over here and sit on me."

"With pleasure," Draco replied, a smile teasing his lips.

The following hour was filled with looking at locations for holidaying, comparing prices and reviews and converting Galleons to pounds. It was also filled with the most dreadful bickering anyone has ever heard; someone listening from behind walls would have thought they were an old married couple. Well. They would have been one-third correct. Either way, by the time they were finished and a place had been booked, neither Draco nor Harry could look at the other's face without feeling an unstoppable need to punch it.

What a lovely couple.

**A/N: Hmm. Not quite decided on a **_**where**_** and a **_**when,**_** but we're getting there ^-^**

**Wow. This was a short one =S**

**CHEERS: **Darloudasha** =D**


	25. Monday: Geography

_**A While In The Life…: Geography**_

"Ok, so… wait. What? Recite the plan to me again. Where is it we're going?"

Harry sighed and put down his fork, raising his eyes to the ceiling. (Why, _oh_ why did wizard children not get taught Geography _before_ they were sent to school at eleven?) All through lunch Draco had been asking questions about the holiday they'd booked, all the specific details which they'd gone over already. It was rather beginning to give Harry a slight feeling of déjà vu; either that or a complex. Were his skills in explanation really beginning to fail so badly? He set his knife onto the table and poised both hands in the air to demonstrate with. (At this, Draco raised his eyebrows and waited amusedly; he knew he was in for a long-winded explanation whenever Harry's hands were poised as such.

"Ok, so we're going to a little place in Turkey called _Oludeniz_- think 'Ollo-Denise'- which isn't _that_ far away; it's on the edge of Europe, beginning of Asia." Harry's hands were already moving about seemingly of their own accord; they didn't seem to link to anything he was saying. (What was most likely was that Harry had stretched out a map of the world in his head, and was simply pointing to places on the map in the air. Or something.)

"We're staying for _two weeks_ in an all-inclusive hotel – we leave next Friday, the second, and come back on the sixteenth – two weeks afterwards."

Draco nodded slowly, taking in all the information he already knew. "And we're travelling there by _plane_?"

"Yes. _Well done_, love," replied Harry, mocking him.

"But…why couldn't we just Floo there, or Apparate there, or something?"

"_Because_," Harry began, clasping his hands together like an old Science professor would before starting a lecture, "firstly, because of the boundary on the flat, we'd have to lug around suitcases and what not until we're at least – _at least_ – a mile away; and even _then_ we'd have to find a suitable spot where nobody would see us _magically_ disappear. Oh, and regarding the massive distance, we'd probably end up losing each other along the way or Splinching. And I want you to-"

"Ok, ok, stop there," Draco cut in, silencing Harry before he could _really_ take his stride, "I get your point dear."

"Dear? _Really?_ Is that really necessary? I'm not _that_ old, you know."

Draco gave Harry the eyebrow and took a bite from his fork. There was a while of complete silence whilst they each ate, savouring the gap in somewhat tedious conversation to fill their gobs, and Harry hummed.

"Harry."

"Mmmm?"

"You're doing it again."

"Oh, Draco, _please_," Harry pleaded as Draco shook his head vigorously, "I can't _stand_ silence- you _know_ I can't stand it, come on-"

"_No!_ You know I only bought you those headphones because _I_ couldn't stand _listening_ to it all anymore, I can't sit and- _ugh_!"

"Oh, but Draco, it's a _meal!_"

"Lunch. Not dinner. You can have it later," Draco said, collecting up Harry's plate and leaning across to flick the end of his nose, "but not now. Oh, and you're doing the dishes today. As in, now. Chop chop, Potter! _Time waits for no man!_"

Harry jabbed his unfair lover with a tea towel and wandered over to the kitchen begrudgingly to get started on the grubby dishes.

"You know what, Draco?" he called, eyeing up all of the dirty crockery he had to clean, "How about next time, you clean as you go along?"

"Yeah, yeah," came the response as Draco pointed a middle finger in Harry's direction, "Get a dishwasher."

"I _am_ the dishwasher!"

Although there was _some_ point in what Harry said; Draco _did_ have a tendency to use literally _everything_ but the kitchen sink when he cooked. Especially as he was only making meals for two people. He blamed it on the Muggles… and the landlord.

Mostly the landlord.

"Harry?" he called through to the kitchen, "Err- planes?"

"We've been through this, Draco. Like flying on the inside of a massive broomstick, with seats and miniscule telly screens with tinny-reception headphones to buy so we can listen to it. Or watch it, rather."

"And that takes us forty thousand something feet in the air, does it?" Draco looked up, worried, "with nothing but big _metal_ wings to support us?"

"When you're riding a broom, you have only _you_ to protect yourself with. A plane is really _much_ safer," Harry pointed out. "And either way- I'll be there to hold your hand when you're scared."

Draco went over to the sink and encircled Harry's waist with his arms.

"Hah," he murmured into Harry's ear, "Who says _I'm_ going to be scared?"

Harry turned around in Draco's arms, drying his hands on a tea towel so that he could wrap them around the taller man's neck and smiling smugly.

"Oh, Draco. I thought we'd gotten past this by now."

Draco eyed him, long and hard, before easing gently out of Harry's well-placed grip.

"Shut up, Potter. Or I'll hex you."

**A/N: So there's the time and the date. … Well, the date. From the second to the sixteenth (two weeks, no?) there shall be no AWITL! However, I will fill the time by writing the sequel- no, what am I talking about? - The **_**Prequel**_**. Maybe then I can incorporate some more…**_**echoes**_** of the past when they get back from Turkey =D**

**Thankses: **XAnnabubbleX**, **morganaxpendragon**, **pinball62**, **Nymphadora Potter**, **Darloudasha**, **Chalcedony Rivers**, **Sadistic-Llama** (LOL), **Catindahat** and, last but not least, **Daughter of Poseidon33**. PHEW. You guys are all **_**jolly good!**_** =DD**


	26. Tuesday: Visitor

_**A While In The Life…: Visitor**_

Draco paused at the door, straining his ears to make out the unusual noises coming from behind it. Well. The faint thumping bass wasn't a surprise to him; a sure-fire sign that Harry was in was if music could be heard from halfway up the stairs. However, it wasn't _usually_ this loud. And it didn't _usually_ have someone with a rather high-pitched voice singing along loudly and off-key to it. (Although, technically it was _usually_ just the high-pitched voice and loudness missing. Harry didn't like to shout about his "talent"- a little joke they often shared.)

No, Draco knew this was different. There was only one person who would be able to come into their flat and do that without getting chucked out. He heard a high-pitched laugh, and eyed the bag he had in his hands. Carefully concealing it within his inside pocket (which was quite big, and the bag small) Draco took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He doubted Harry would even hear.

"I'm home..." he started, entering the flat, but his voice trailed off as he saw the scene taking place.

She was there, of course; Granger. Not that he had any problems with her, not anymore, but she always made him feel awkward. Neither her or _his_ Harry had noticed Draco enter; they were too busy...Dancing. Juggling glasses of Muggle-made wine as they did...whatever...it was they were doing across the room. (The room which, in itself, was a tip. It looked like Harry had come in with all his work stuff and flung it on the bed; the duvet and pillows were on the floor, surrounded by a couple of plates full of breadcrumbs. A complete and utter _tip_, it was.)

Draco scrunched the bag more tightly next to his arm and tried again. "I said, _I'm home_!"

At this, _she_ turned in his direction, surprise masking her face. Draco noted the empty wine bottle balancing precariously on the window ledge and raised an eyebrow. Granger smacked Harry with her elbow and he noticed Draco's presence too. The music was suddenly quietened as Harry flicked out a hand.

"Oh!" he smiled, meandering around the cluttered floor to reach Draco's side, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Nope. Mr Cellophane, me," replied Draco, all but forgetting the figure hovering in front of them, "Although with that racket I'm surprised you can hear each other."

Harry chuckled and leant into Draco's ear; "_We can't_."

A slight clearing of the throat reminded Draco that they weren't alone.

"Draco!"

"Gra- um. Hermione. Nice to, erm, see you."

Harry shot a warning glance and Draco forced a smile onto his lips.

"Harry tells me you're swanning off to Turkey next week!" Granger exclaimed, coming over to join them, "Talk about last minute!"

"_Dot com_," Harry breathed. She didn't hear. Draco stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, I'm certainly looking forward to it," he said brightly, digging a finger into Harry's side, "Two weeks away with Harry, accompanied only by sun, sea, sand and-"

"Yeah, we can't wait, _can we, Draco_?" Harry cut in, glaring.

Granger laughed her tinkling, tipsy laugh and suggested clearing up the place. Draco politely excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen, lingering only slightly to watch the bantering between the two friends in his front room.

He turned, and took out the bag from his jacket. Peering around the corner to check Harry's attention was averted, Draco shook its contents out onto a clean surface. He carefully eased the photo out of its little plastic sleeve and eyed it comfortingly. The Harry in this shot, _his_ Harry, had his head buried in Draco's shoulder and an arm draped across his shoulders. Draco himself was laughing; something had flickered right in front of their faces just before the self-timer went off, startling them, and the two of them had cascaded into a fit of giggles. Afterwards, the picture had been "deleted". (Draco remembered they'd found a spot in that park where nobody would see them Levitating the camera. He simply didn't have the heart to delete it.)

He looked to the other Harry, the Harry flicking cushions at his best friend, and felt a twinge of regret. He could never act that way with Harry. There was always too much tension, squabbling, _love_. There was no time for pure friendship.

"...yeah, so I'll see you tomorrow then. Yeah. Bye!" the sound of Harry's voice alerted Draco. He left the picture on the surface and found Harry by the door, waving off Granger.

"Yeah! Bye! Bye, Draco- have fun abroad!"

As she tottered off on her way, and Draco waved a meagre farewell, Harry tipped his head back into Draco's shoulder. Draco leaned his head down to make contact with it. "And how many glasses did she consume then, Potter?"

"God knows."

Harry shut the door. He turned, made eye contact with Draco, and started to laugh. They laughed almost all night at her expense. Then, when the filthy floor beckoned them and their Cillit Bang, they opened another bottle of wine and giggled some more.

**A/N: Oh dear! I'm so sorry about the lateness! Damn time :-C!**

**Err..all of the thankses were in the last chapter. So CHEERS TO ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO I SAID BEFORE! AGAIN!**


	27. Wednesday: Hungover

**_A While In The Life…: Hungover_**

There was complete silence, apart from the chinking of glasses being collected, and the rustle of black plastic being carried around. They moved like zombies, slowly getting rid of all of the crumbly mess on the floor.

"Oh, _god_, Harry," Draco groaned, pausing to press a hand to his head, "Remind me again why we didn't clean the place last night."

"Because," Harry huffed, bent over the sink washing plates and glasses, "we decided instead like the silly fools we are to waste another hour and another bottle of wine. And, by the looks of things, a tube of... Pringles? Must have been Hermione..."

"Well then, why didn't we do it this morning?"

"Um, that would be due to the fact that I failed to set my alarm last night, and thus woke up late, having slept _even_ more soundly after the, er, _intoxication_."

"Right. And I'm assuming that's also the reason why we didn't think to take the meds before we left this morning?" Draco paused with a carpet-covered Pringle in his hands, "and why we _didn't_ sleep in the bed?"

"Um, yes and then no. Well. Partly no; I think the main reason we slept on the floor was because the bed was- and still _is_- littered with my belongings."

Draco slumped down onto the floor, clutching the bin bag in one hand and his head in another.

"Well, whatever the reason, my head _bloody hurts_!"

There was a sudden softening of a buzz coming from the kitchen; Harry had turned off the taps and was heading over to the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel as he went.

"Ooh, look at you. Mr On-The-Go," Draco called mockingly, "Multi-tasking. Clever... I could never do that.."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and drink this." Harry had returned with two glasses and a bottle of the hangover stuff. He poured each of the glasses a healthy measure and passed one to Draco, tipping his in an impatient _Cheers_.

"Mmmm. Ta."

A mutual sigh fell across the two of them as the liquid worked its way through their splitting headaches. Draco tipped his head back with his eyes closed, stretching out his neck and letting the magic spread.

"Thank _god_ for potions."

"Thank god for Hermione having the initiative to supply us with them!"

"..Yeah. That too." Draco opened one eye and regarded Harry slightly warily, "Thank god for having..friends..to think of ways to outsmart your dirty, robbing landlord."

Harry nodded. Something occurred to him and he turned to Draco.

"Oh- I found the photo, by the way," he murmured. "When I was washing up all that rubbish just then. You know, you _really_ need to find better ways of hiding things from me."

Draco's forehead creased, before he remembered leaving their picture on a clean surface the previous night.

"Oh god. Yeah..." he averted his eyes, flushing slightly, "It was supposed to be a gift. You know...to say thank you for Turkey and all that. And for...staying. For all this time."

Harry smiled. "It's ok. S'not as if I had nothing better to do," he dodged the smack thrown his way and continued, "Oh, and I noticed too- no movement? A _Muggle_ photo?"

"Well, I figured a moving picture would seem out of place next to all your devices over there."

"And who says I'm going to be putting it over _there_? Who says I'm not going to put it by the _bed_, or on the _windowsill_?"

"_I_ do, Potter because _I_ went out and got it, you smarmy git. Pff!"

Harry sighed. "Yes, Draco."

**A/N: Again with apologising for lateness (although, technically, this one isn't REALLY that late.) And, erm, I most likely won't update again till like Monday, as I'm away for the weekend. But Friday, Saturday and Sunday's chapters WILL MAKE IT TO THE SCREEN! I PROMISE =D**

**Thanks, all! =]**


	28. Thursday: Bemused

_**A While In The Life…: Bemused**_

Harry was completely and utterly bemused. He was kneeling on the floor with a CD in his hands, staring at the cover and blinking. Upon reaching into the assigned Muse slot, Harry had been surprised to find something else entirely clutched in his hands. After a few moments of confusion, it suddenly clicked that Draco had been _sorting through his CD collection_. Harry sighed and growled; this would take a hell of a long time to re-organise. Peering more closely at the rack, he saw that they were ordered in some sort of alphabetical fashion. However, as Draco didn't seem to be able to tell the difference between a band name and a title (which was- to a degree- understandable), they were still all jumbled up in an annoying way in which nobody would ever be able to decipher a particular _order_ as such, to them all.

"Ugh, _Draco!_" Harry sighed into the air. "Why can't you just _leave it alone_ for once?"

Grudgingly, he set about taking apart the rack and re-organising it in a _real_ alphabetical order, going through genres to artists. He was still replacing CDs and muttering names to himself when the door opened and Draco silently slid through it. The first inkling Harry had of Draco's arrival was when his music was cut. And it was just getting to the climax of the song; Harry sighed, and turned to see the tall man disappear into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes and got back to sorting.

"What'cha doing down there, Harry?" a voice called from the kitchen. "You'll get your trousers filthy, and I'm not cleaning them."

"I'm sorting out my _music_ collection, which you _ever so kindly_ messed up for me, like four days ago now. Thanks for that, by the way. I put into the rack my hand, expecting to find a Muse CD and being left with a soundtrack! And, as much as I love the scarred-but-genius voice of one Gerard Butler, I wanted Matt Bellamy."

Draco came in, munching on an apple, and raised his eyebrows. "You know I have no idea of half of what you said and those names are meaningless to me, right?"

Harry sighed, nodded, and turned his back on Draco to complete his system. He was immediately punished.

"Hey! Don't turn your back on _me_, mister," Draco complained, placing a (Harry's) jacket on the wooden-tiled floor and sitting on it, cross-legged. "I was doing you a _favour_ on Sunday- it was all in gibberish, there was no sense of order anywhere!"

"Yes, there _was,_ Draco. The same order I'm re-doing."

"Nope. Certainly was not any sign nor shape of an order in that dusty pile of slots and plastic."

"Oh, shut up and eat your apple, Malfoy."

"With relish, Potter."

"Pff."

There were no sounds, apart from the crunching of teeth on fruit and Harry's concentrated huffs and puffs, and minutes passed by peacefully.

"Oh god, Harry," Draco suddenly exclaimed, "we're leaving the country in a week!"

"Not exactly _leaving_," Harry replied, slotting in the last CD, "Just holidaying. We'll be back before you know it, if you're worried about leaving beloved England."

"No, it's not _that_, it's the packing I'm worried about!"

"_What?_" Harry turned to fix his eyes on Draco. "We have _a week_ to do that! Or, at least, a good five days!"

Draco scowled and got up to go and throw his apple core away. Harry watched him go, and noticed what he'd been sitting on.

"Oh, that's really nice of you," he called sarcastically, "placing my work jacket in between the grubby floor and your grubby arse. Cheers, mate!"

"Get over it, Potter, I'll shove it in a wash."

"You don't know how to _use_ a washing machine!"

"_I can learn!"_ Draco's voice was raised, and he appeared around the kitchen door. Scanning the room for writing utensils, Draco was making a list of things they would need in his head. A jolt went through him as he realised they would be _way_ outside the magic limits once abroad.

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied to Draco's facial expression; "won't it be great? Oh, hey, you could even make a little _voodoo_ _doll_ of the landlord and stick little _pins_ in it! That'll be fun, won't it?"

Draco's perfectly-aimed cushion thwacked Harry in the mouth and shut him up like heaven, slammed at forty miles per hour into somebody's mouth.

**A/N: Alrighty then. So there it is, today's chapter done and dusted. Hopefully it won't take too long to get Friday's, Saturday's and Sunday's up!**

**TY: **Chalcedony Rivers**, **pinball62**, **Nymphadora Potter**, **LupineLightning-IllusionDragon**;** **you lot are the jam =D And bloody FAST jam at that! =DD**

**Ta ra!**

_**(PS- **__Darloudasha__**- see what I did there?)**_


	29. Friday: Background Research

_**A While In The Life…: Background Research**_

There was a knock on the door. Draco jumped, knocking a pen off Harry's desk, and looked around at it wildly. His heart rate rushed to a guilty pace, and his face flushed. It wouldn't be Harry; Harry had his own key (and the whole knock-on-the-door-to-piss-off-lover thing had died out _very_ quickly after Draco had refused entry to his mouth for several days). No, this was definitely _not_ Harry at the door. There was another knock, impatient.

"Um-" Draco glanced back to the screen in front of him- "Ok! _Coming_!"

Draco had no idea what to do to get rid of the pages lighting up the screen; he decided on pressing a button with a circle and a line in the middle, which turned everything black, before jumping up to reach the door.

It was Granger; she stood, tapping the wall with her finger, and looked up when the door opened. She seemed mildly put-out when it was not Harry but Draco who had answered, but quickly resumed a bright smile.

"Hey, Draco!" a quick glance over Draco's shoulder (and the fact that he'd answered the door) had probably told Granger all she needed to know, but she persisted in asking anyway; "is Harry about?"

"Er, no. Sorry, he's just nipped out...somewhere..." Draco cursed inwardly for his awful memory, and she nodded. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Um. Would you like to come in then, Gr-Hermione, and wait for him inside?"

He stepped back to let her in and shut the door with his back to her, closing his eyes and silently praying that Harry would return from wherever it was he went, _soon_. When he turned around, Granger was making her way dangerously towards the Mac.

"Oh- Granger- I mean-"

"Draco, did you notice this is switched on?" she reached it and faced him, indicating the button he had pressed before, and explained, "The screen's just turned off. Not like Harry to... here, let me just..."

Draco's heart jumped as she reached out a hand to turn on the screen. "You really don't need to do that-"

"What? Of _course_ I _need_ to, it's wasting electricity just sitting here, turned on like this. I'll just-"

"No, you really _don't_, you see-"

It was too late; Granger had pressed the button and was scanning the screen for its contents, puzzled. Draco leant forward onto a chair and exhaled, avoiding her eyes as she turned to look at him questioningly.

"Draco? What's this?"

He raised his head to scowl at her before returning his gaze fixedly to the floor.

"Nothing. It's nothing." _Nothing of your business anyway_, he thought.

"NO," Granger continued, grabbing a chair and sitting down opposite him, "No, it's definitely something. Which _you_ wanted to hide from me."

Draco glared at her. She didn't take the hint.

"Come _on_, Draco. Matt Bellamy? What's he got to do with anything?"

Draco fixed her with a steely glower, hoping that she would finally understand and shut the hell up.

Predictably, she didn't. He sighed in frustration and gave in.

"Fine. _Fine_," he muttered, raising his voice to continue, "I was only doing some background research."

Granger snorted. "What kind of _background research_ involves Googling the frontman in an English rock band?"

_So that's what he is, then?_ Draco mused. Out loud, he argued, "No, it's just that Harry said something about him yesterday, and I simply wanted to find out what he was talking about, is all."

He shrugged, and Hermione looked on smugly. She walked over to the Mac and clicked something. It turned off.

"So what was it, then?"

Draco's forehead creased in confused exasperation. "What?"

"You said Harry was talking about Matt Bellamy. What did he say?"

"Oh. He said...he said..." Draco racked his brain for the exact phrase, "...wait."

Granger laughed at his expense. Draco suddenly remembered the little squabble they'd had the day before.

"Oh, yeah. He said, 'as much as I love the scarred-but-genius voice of one Gerard Butler, I wanted Matt Bellamy.' Don't ask, Granger. Just don't ask."

Granger nodded thoughtfully. She probably already knew. That or she was in the process of figuring it out; either way, she knew more than him. As far as Draco knew, a _butler_ was someone who was paid to serve posh Muggles. Or something. At this point, the door opened.

"I'm home, Draco- oh! Hello, Hermione!"

"Harry!" She jumped up to go and greet him at the door.

From the raised eyebrow Draco got from Harry, he could predict that he did _not_ look like one happy bunny slumped in his chair.

Draco sighed and disappeared into the kitchen to start on dinner for three.

**A/N: And I'm back! A couple of thank yous left over from last time, so ty- **Darloudasha**, **pinball62


	30. Saturday: Sparkle

_**A While In The Life…: Sparkle**_

There was a tut from the bed, where Draco sat holding a fancy-looking book and frowning. Every so often, he would roll his eyes, sigh, exhale strongly or growl. Eventually, he threw the damn book down in exasperation.

"I can't believe teenage girls actually _read_ these things!" he exclaimed, "I mean- who in their right minds would _care_ about someone who _sparkled_?"

Harry appeared from around the bathroom door, wearing a towel. "What's that you're saying?"

"It's this rubbish here," Draco scowled and threw the book at Harry, "all this _young adult_ vampire rubbish. They've got it _so_ wrong."

"Well, I think maybe it has _something _to do with the fact that you're about a decade or so _out _of the Young Adult range, Draco." Harry read the blurb, opened up to a random page and laughed. "It must be Hermione's then; she'd have left it yesterday."

"_What_? _Granger_ reads it?" Draco yelped, snapping his head up in alarm.

"_No_, of course she doesn't!" Harry replied, opening the drawer in the space underneath the bed, "she lives next to a Muggle family with a twelve-year-old girl. It's probably a gift or something."

Harry pulled out some clothes at random, and examined them. Upon finding they were all clean and relatively un-creased, he began to put them on. He was soon stopped by Draco, who swiftly replaced the I-don't-care-what-I-look-like-today combo with something that looked like a _little_ more effort had come from it.

"Um. Thanks," Harry said, looking at himself in a mirror, "Yeah, so it must have been Hermione leaving it behind. I'll give her a ring or something; let her know it's here."

"What, so she can come round _again_ to get it?"

Harry's forehead creased in slight confusion. "What's wrong with her coming around here?"

"No, there's nothing _wrong_," Draco corrected himself quickly, "it's just that she's been over practically _every day_ recently."

"Two days, actually. And give her a rest; this is the only sort of time she gets off work, she can't get away any other time of the month."

"Yeah, yeah. Get a better job," Draco muttered, before adding in a clearer voice, "But what do you two _do_ anyway? What do you find to _talk_ about that you haven't discussed the day before? Or the hour before, in some cases?"

"Well, _I_ don't know," Harry shrugged, "we _joke_, we mess around. We just do what _friends_ do, Draco. You know; just matey stuff."

"No, I don't know. You're conveniently forgetting I _have_ no friends."

"Of _course_ you have friends, Draco! What about Pansy and all them?"

"Pff. They aren't friends; they were never _friends_, they were _cronies_. Back-up. Safety in numbers, that sort of thing."

Harry looked at him quizzically. He stared for a while, before doing up the last button on his shirt.

"Wow. You're such a _loner_, Draco!"

Thwack. Harry yelped.

**A/N: Heh heh. I love this chapter; not my favourite, though. All those who are to be thanked shall be thanked in the next chapter =D**


	31. Sunday: Snarky

_**A While In The Life…: Snarky**_

_Sunday_

She stood awkwardly to one side, trying to avoid Draco's eyes as Harry fished around for her silly book. Draco was in a particularly snarky mood today, and Harry wasn't in the best of positions either. _Four-one!_, he'd complained to Granger as she stepped through the door, _four bloody one to the Germans! Stupid blind ref_. There was a sort of uncertainty as to why Draco was scowling, however, but he seemed to be either taking it out or blaming it on poor Hermione.

"Oh!" Harry's voice drifted across from wherever it was he was searching, "I know where I left it now!"

Granger coughed, and pulled her arms from her chest, before replying in a resolutely sunny voice. "Yeah? Thank the heavens; I thought I'd be here for days!"

Harry could be heard laughing. She smiled to herself, and turned back to Draco. He stared at her blankly, and her face slowly dropped. She crossed her arms tightly around herself and leant back against the wall, acting as if there weren't two grey eyes boring into her from the side. Draco tutted and she snapped her head around to hiss at him.

"What is your _problem_, Draco?"

"Problem?" Draco's voice was monotonous and icy, "I see no problem."

"Well, _I do_! Get a _hold_ of your- Harry! Thanks!" Harry appeared holding her book, and she left the wall to take it from him and put it in her bag. "I won't have to make up an excuse to little Emmy now, will I?"

Her tinkling laugh erupted, making Harry smile. He looked over at Draco suspiciously, who shook his head slightly and gazed back. They would discuss it sometime later; Draco would have to distract him somehow.

After Hermione had disappeared with her literary failure, Harry paused at the door with his back to Draco and contemplated questioning the strange behaviour he'd just witnessed; however, Draco had his ruse ready and waiting, and beat Harry to the chase.

"So, Mr Potter. When do you propose we start packing for _Oludeniz_?"

Harry turned around, nonplussed. "What?"

"Packing." Draco stretched his hands behind his head and linked them together, relaxed. "You know, putting clothes in cases and organising things such as _money_ and _medicine_ and _toiletries_. As you _insist_ on doing _everything_ the Muggle way."

"Oh yeah," Harry seemed confused, "That. Well...it doesn't really take _that_ much effort- does it?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and indicated for Harry to elaborate. (Put together with the whole hands-behind-head thing going on it looked quite impressive, actually.)

"Oh, come on, Draco! What would we _need_ for two weeks in an all-inclusive hotel? Trunks. T-shirts. Sun cream, toothpaste. It's not _that_ complex."

"Hah," Draco snorted, getting up to reach a hand around Harry's waist, "you won't be saying that when we're rushing around Thursday evening, trying to get everything in order, will you?"

"Well, when do _you_ propose we do it, then?" Harry asked, irritated.

"Mmmm. Tomorrow. So we can have everything organised, and so I can check it every night."

Harry released himself from Draco's grasp and sniggered. "You're such a fretty old woman, Draco."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

**A/N: For the record, I don't share Draco's views on the book. However, I **_**do**_** agree with Harry on the blind ref. Grrrrr…**

**: **mmmm456** (Hmmm. Something familiar about this one ;PP), **XAnnabubbleX**, **Nymphadora Potter** and last but not least, **DWatts1027**. ****You guys make me smile**** =]**


	32. Monday: Twenty Eight Shirts

_**A While In The Life…: Twenty Eight Shirts**_

"Trunks. Two...no, three each. Shoes, sandals, flip-flops, whatever. Shirts. Ah." Draco looked up from Harry's notepad and got his attention. "We're going to need _fourteen shirts_ each! That's ...what? Twenty eight? _Twenty_-_eight_ _shirts_! Oh Christ."

"WHAT?" Harry cut the hoover for Draco to repeat what he said. "Oh. No matter; we can just take fourteen and share them."

Draco looked positively horrified at the prospect of sharing clothing, and his head dipped back down to resume planning what they were to pack. Harry concentrated on hoovering the somewhat filthy floor, just about hearing Draco's mumbled planning over the loud hum of the Dyson.

"Underwear...ugh, fourteen pairs of pants each. Shoes- oh, I've already said that...socks. Will we need socks?" Draco raised his voice to speak to Harry. "We're going to need more than one case for all this, you know! I haven't even _started_ on toiletries, meds, sun lotion- oh, that's a point..."

"Yeah. Legs."

Draco pulled his feet up onto the chair he was sitting on so that Harry could manoeuvre his device underneath it. Eventually, both the hoovering and the list were done and Harry sat down opposite Draco, regarding him with some curiosity.

"So what was the deal with you and Hermione yesterday then?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Draco looked up to him, the picture of innocence. Inside, he was panicking; had Harry spotted the off behaviour Draco had performed the previous day?

"Draco, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Harry continued, resting his chin on his hand, "you wouldn't stop glaring at the poor girl until she was out of the door; out of the building, may I stretch to! What's up?"

He stretched a hand over the table to Draco, palm out; it was received by being gently prodded back by a long, pale finger. Harry sighed and pushed it into Draco's, holding his ground until it was taken into Draco's grasp.

"Come on, Draco. You can tell me," Harry said softly; no response. "Is it Hermione? Is it because she's been here so often?"

Draco looked away to a point over in another corner of the flat, and Harry sighed.

"I can't do anything to improve the situation if I don't know what the situation _is_, Draco."

"It's nothing." The words came out as mumbles, and Draco coughed before continuing, "I see no problem that I have with...Hermione."

"Really? _Really_, Draco? Because she does. And _I_ do. It's written all over your face," Harry watched Draco closely as colour rose into his pale cheeks. However, there was still no response. "God, I hate this, you know. It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes, Draco. It's like you're some sort of child who needs training to be more accepting of other people."

"I-" Draco's words caught in his throat, and he gulped. "I- I just-"

Harry sighed. "Come here."

He opened out his arms and Draco slid effortlessly into them, ringing his arms around Harry's neck and burying his head in Harry's shoulder. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and whispered into Harry's ear.

"Look- look, I'll tell you what the problem is someday," he felt Harry stiffen slightly at his mouth, but continued, "Just not today. Not now...I'm sorry, Harry. I always find myself doing this to you."

"Doing _what_?" Harry instinctively placed a hand on Draco's back and stroked up and down. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Draco; I understand that you don't see eye-to-eye with Hermione. I get that; I just don't _understand_ why you sometimes like her and sometimes hate her, is all."

"It's...it's not just that. Not just her." Draco's voice was barely above a whisper; softer than a child.

"No?"

Harry felt Draco shake his head. He waited for him to elaborate, but there wasn't another word spoken. Slowly, Harry bent and kissed the top of Draco's head, feeling a smile form from the mouth on his collarbone. After a while, Draco removed himself from Harry's body and stretched his limbs before heading over to the kitchen.

"Doing dinner now," he called to a bemused Harry, "any preferences as to what it is?"

"But what about the packing? What about your list?" Harry replied.

"Oh, it can wait," Draco shrugged it off airily, "Now would you like pizza or pasta? Please say pizza, I can't be bothered to cook properly!"

Harry smiled, and laughed to himself; that damn man was _so_ unpredictable sometimes.

**A/N: Aargh, wow. I can't believe this is the thirty-second chapter! Damnit! ^-^**

**Time for thankses then. Right, so this lot's for **pinball62**, **Sadistic-Llama**, **Chalcedony Rivers** and **dphsgo**. Cheers m'dears!**

**(PS- if anyone noticed the **_Sunday_** at the beginning of last chapter, erm, ignore it. Lol, I put on the days when I'm writing them so I don't lose track ;P I usually delete them before it hits the screen though =S)**


	33. Tuesday: Packing?

_**A While In The Life…: Packing?**_

"Harry- _Harry_! _Ugh_!" Draco cried out in frustration, "IT WON'T _BLOODY_ CLOSE!"

Harry, instead of coming over and helping, shouted back, "Sit on it!"

"_What_?" Draco screamed back.

"Sit on it!" Harry replied, "It'll squish the contents and make it easier to zip up!"

"_I'm not fat, Potter!_"

"Oh, get on with it, you lazy spindly git!"

Loud, beat-pumping, _forbidden_ music filled the room; Harry claimed it got him 'in the holiday mood'. It didn't get Draco in the 'holiday mood'. It made him want to throttle something. Preferably the drowning cat blasting through Harry's stereo. Draco himself had his torso flung across his suitcase in a vain attempt to keep all its contents inside; he now looked at it underneath him, panicking, and took a deep breath before tightening his grip on either handle on its stuffed sides.

He raised one of his legs and got it onto a side of the bed, swearing painfully at the discomfort it caused once there. Then, slowly turning his body so as not to rip his legs apart further and to keep the contents of the suitcase happy, he lifted the other one to the same position. Here he faced his second problem; how on _earth_ would he manage to _sit up_ on it without letting go? Draco sighed, and slumped his head into the cool metal. (It was actually extremely relieving, as the air conditioner had stopped working. Harry said he was working on it. _Yeah, right,_ thought Draco.)

From behind him there came a childish and barely-concealed giggle; this was followed by a resounding guffaw, and Draco didn't even need to turn his head to know Harry was in fits, sniggering behind at his expense. To be honest, the scene Harry was witnessing _was_ hilarious to the extreme; Draco, with his bum high in the air and his legs splayed in different directions, grappling at the sides of the case in a panic and his arms crossed uncomfortably underneath his chest. And Harry just sat there, watching in glee as Draco struggled.

"Oh, Draco!" he choked out, gasping for air, "you _do_ look so _damn_ shaggable there like that! Why, I could just _eat_ you!"

Draco's face flushed bright pink, and he blew the hair out of his eyes with an indignant _mmph!_ Harry stifled his laughter slightly, and Draco exhaled. "... Potter."

"Yes, Draco, _darling_, what is it?"

Draco took a deep breath but couldn't seem to be able to spit out what he wanted to say. Harry filled in the gap perfectly.

"Would you like a hand there?"

There was no response, save an audible growl. Harry laughed, cut the music and went over to the bed. Much to immediate exclamation and complaints, he pushed Draco off of the bulging suitcase with one hand. The other he placed on top of the case and pushed down hard. Harry waited until Draco had prodded any items of clothing or other that were sticking out of the case back in before speaking.

"Now," he said quietly and clearly, "_Sit on the case._"

Draco glowered at him- it was smouldering- and obliged, planting his arse on the metal and crossing his arms huffily. He then watched as Harry circled the case, pulling the zip along with him, and smirked gittily***** when he got stuck along the way.

"Hah." he drawled, "Not so funny now, is it, Potter?"

"No, Draco, I think that the problem _here_ is that you have packed literally the world and his Paris Hilton-inspired doggy outfits into one relatively-sized box of containment space!" Harry retorted, yanking shut the last centimetre of zip, "Maybe _next time_ you should think about bringing _less stuff_."

"How d'you know there'll _be_ a _next time_, Mr. Potter?" demanded Draco, stretching his legs out and wrapping them around Harry's neck (an extremely difficult task, but he managed it. Bloody wonder, that man.), "and who on Earth is Paris Hilton?"

"Oh, you don't want to know." Harry paused, shuddered, and straightened up (after removing Draco's feet from his face, of course). He pulled the skinny blond man closer until their noses were practically touching, and tilted him back to within millimetres of the suitcase, letting every inch of the front of their bodies touch. It was a red-hot atmosphere, feeling the heat of Draco's wandering eyes- and hands- and Harry's body flamed in response... At least, it did until he saw the bottle of liquid lying on the bed.

"Oh, crap, Draco."

"Ungh! Don't tell me, Harry," Draco whimpered, closing his eyes, "just don't tell me what the problem is and we can continue what _you've_ started."

"Draco, I can't..."

"Don't tell me, Potter," he warned, opening his eyes and reaching a hand to drag Harry's face closer, "Don't ruin the moment..."

"Draco, we'll forget it...!"

"You're ruining- I swear to _god_, if you ruin the moment I'll bloody-"

"We didn't pack the mosquito repellent." There was a thump as Draco hit the bed, released from Harry's grasp, and groaned. "And we can't put it in my case, because that's done and locked and full to the brim."

Draco opened one eye to glare at Harry, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Draco. We'll just have to open it again."

"Seriously. Oh, for the love of- _seriously_, Potter! Christ!" Draco threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Come on, Draco ... we haven't got all day."

Draco gave him a black, smouldering stare and rolled off the bed. He stalked over to his desk whilst visibly flipping Harry off.

**A/N: Wow. Ten emails today, and all from ! I feel special! ^-^ **

**CHEERS M'DEARS: **XAnnabubbleX**, **MondayMiss**, **bookworm19065**, **Catindahat**, **ginnytx**, **Nymphadora Potter**, **mccrocm** and **Crazy emo Chic**. You all deserve gold stars! =D**

**EDIT: Oh god. I'm so LATE! All that above was like.. Monday. Now it's Thursday and there's something like eleven! Eleven-ish more thankyous? Yay! They're all in next chapter, so… yeah. Bye!**


	34. Wednesday: Too Damn Plugged In To Notice

_**A While In The Life…: Too Damn Plugged In To Notice**_

"_So long, Jimmy..._"

"Harry."

"..._just swimming in your soul_...mm-hmm.."

"Harry! You're doing it again!"

Ten fingers strummed some sort of imaginary guitar. "Mraw-aw-raw, mraw-aw-raww.."

Draco picked up a cushion and-

"_Duh-duh_- OW!"

- lobbed it at Harry's insufferable head, who unplugged himself from his Mac immediately and turned around with his arms held up defensively.

"Ow, Draco! That bloody _hurt_!" he got up, grasped the cushion and strode over to kneel by Draco on the floor by the bed. "What did I do to deserve that, hmm?"

"What did you _do_? Harry, you were brutally _murdering_ what probably _wasn't_ a particularly good song to begin with!" Draco put a hand on his heart and said solemnly, "I was seriously considering hitting you with something harder than a cushion. It was a dark time, Harry...a _dark time_."

Harry leant forward and rested his elbows on the edge of the bed. He was millimetres away from Draco's nose, and it made him go slightly cross-eyed. "_Someone_ needs to get more _accustomed_ to my musical needs."

"Yes, but _someone else_ needs to _**acquiesce**_ to the medical needs...of my _ears_!"

Draco got his nose flicked- which hurt- in response, and Harry got up. He called to Draco as he made his way to the bathroom. "Your words are meaningless to my ears. _Can't starve me of my tunes, baby!_"

Wince. "As long as you swear to me to _never_ _repeat_ _that_. Ever again. Ever."

Harry laughed, and shut the door. Draco almost smiled to himself, before remembering the awfulness of the line, and choosing instead to automatically cringe. Harry came out of the bathroom humming; he was either blind to or chose to ignore the glare sent his way, and continued gaily over to his computer.

"Oh- before I forget; Hermione's coming over in a bit." Harry said, wheeling around in his tracks to face Draco.

His eyes were met with an apparently indifferent grey pair. "...So?"

"_So_," Harry continued, pressing his hands together absent-mindedly, "_You_ might want to get yourself out of here and somewhere safe-"

"Harry-"

"Ah-ah-_ah_!" Harry held up a finger to stop Draco's interruption, "_Somewhere_ _safe_, so to _avoid_ any awkwardness between her, you or me at any given time."

Draco sat up with a panicked, but guilty look in his eyes.

"Harry, I-"

"Draco." Harry exhaled slightly loudly and made his way to the other man.

"But Harry, I really-"

"Draco. Draco?" Harry crouched down to his level, "Draco, listen to me."

"...Should apologise, because there's really no problem, Harry-"

"I know! I know that- Draco, _listen_. You're not _listening_ to me."

"I'm sorry, Harry, and- I just- she should-"

Harry placed Draco's worried face between his two hands and tried again; to no avail. Eventually, he sighed.

"I love you."

"Can't let her hate me, I just want to-"

"Draco. _I_. _Love_. _You_."

"-Apologise to her, Harry, understand-"

"Oh, for the love of God- !"

Harry silenced Draco by leaning forward, closing the small distance between them. He brushed his lips against Draco's rapidly moving ones, and held there until the other stopped trying to talk. He then proceeded to kiss Draco, softly and gently, until hands wound up in his hair and an exhalation from the back of the throat was heard, and it hinted at becoming more. Harry broke away, leaving their noses touching.

"Draco," he whispered, "I. Love. _You_."

Draco swallowed with his eyes closed, reaching his hands up to link around Harry's neck. He nodded.

"Yes. I love you to pieces, and of _course_ I understand!" He nudged Draco's lips until his eyes were open, and continued. "I _know_ you feel guilty about Hermione. I get that. I'm just suggesting, for your good _and_ hers, that you give it a bit of time before you talk to her again. Ok?"

Draco swallowed again, and Harry ran a finger softly down his cheek.

"Ok, Draco?"

Draco's perfect lips curved into a smile, and he nodded. "Yes," Draco whispered, "Yes. I understand. And I...I love you too, Potter. Harry."

"Good. _Good_," Harry replied softly, pressing his forehead into Draco's, "Now. As much as I _do_ in fact love you, and would _gladly_ spend the rest of the night tucked up in your arms, Hermione _is_ coming round and will be here any minute now. So, beautiful _darling_ Draco; please do go away."

Draco smirked and rolled off of the bed. "Anything for you, _dearest_."

There was a knock. Draco grabbed his coat and disappeared into the kitchen as Harry let Granger- no, Hermione- in, and by the time he crept back around to leave they were already laughing together. He placed a finger on his lips and raised a hand to Harry, who nodded in response. Draco smiled, and vacated the premises.

**A/N: Aww. Poor little hyperventilating Draco. SO then. Two more days before they're off to Turkey and the prequel begins! And that's the other thing; the prequel WILL NOT be inside the story. I'll put up a link at the end of the next chapter, OR I'll just tell everyone to check my profile- it all depends on how lazy I'm feeling when the time comes ;P So yeah. Hopefully, it'll just be a link in a chapter =]**

**TY: **bookworm19065**, **icedtea0001**, **Chalcedony Rivers**, **XAnnabubbleX**, **Nymphadora Potter**, **pinball62**, **Alcas** and **Darloudasha**. Thumbs ups to you! Ta ra then!**


	35. Thursday: Turtles

_**A While In The Life…: Turtles**_

"Tenerife."

Harry and Draco were curled up on the sofa, gazing into the flames. There were, as usual, a couple of glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine on the adjacent table (carried over from the couple of nights or so before, of course- they weren't alcoholics), and Harry leant over to take a sip from his glass; he tried not to disturb the dozing body adorning his chest. Draco, stretched out comfortably, did grumble a little underneath his breath. Harry replaced his wine to the table and rested his hand comfortably over Draco's shoulder. There was, predictably, music playing softly in the background. It was actually- against Draco's better judgement- quite nice. Though lord knew what the male singer was singing about; his low, husky voice made it impossible to distinguish between deep words and painful moans.

"What about Tenerife?"

"Well," Harry said, "I've always wanted to go there. I think I actually suggested it as a location, originally."

Draco's reply was slightly muffled. "Hmmm. Why didn't we?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something about the price…yeah, I'm sure that's what it was. Too high."

"Pff! You're Harry Bloody Potter!" Draco opened his eyes to snigger more freely and continued, "_nothing_ should be too expensive; at least, not from _my_ point of view."

"Yes, but I'm not made of money, Draco. I do have a budget."

"Hmph. Never mind, then. Maybe next time."

"Yeah." There was a pause in conversation whilst Draco sat up to reach over and grab his own glass (all the while grumbling about the simplicity of using _accio_ to get it. Harry rolled his eyes and thought, _lazy arse_) before repositioning himself. He rearranged Harry so that he sat straight, and then lowered his head into Harry's lap. Ignoring the complaint about being used as a human doll, Draco sighed and shut his eyes again. There were a few moments of content "silence"- that being hearing nothing but the sound of their breathing, the music and the occasional hums Harry would let slip. Continuing the normality of things, Draco took it upon himself to break the silence.

"What's so good about Tenerife, anyway?"

Harry blew out some air. "Um. I'm sure there's a completely valid reason, with lots of pictures and persuasive techniques involved.."

"But…"

"_But_… I'm not entirely sure I can remember. Ask me when the wine's out of my system, I'm sure the stuff is lethal to my brain."

Thwack. Yelp. (Again, continuing the normality of things.)

"Well, I don't _know_!" Harry said defensively, "there are turtles? Or something? Actually…yeah, I think that's it."

"Turtles? Seriously?" Draco raised his eyes to Harry's face, "you think I would agree to spend fourteen days in a hot foreign country with you…to see the _turtles_?"

He received a shrug in response.

"Dear _lord_, Harry, your memory's even worse than mine!"

"Ah," replied Harry, "that's why we're the _perfect_ couple, Draco. It all fits in."

Draco snorted, and sat up. He stretched, ruffled Harry's hair and busied himself clearing away dishes and pans and glasses. He left Harry to finish his own glass, and set about cleaning the kitchen; once it was spotless he turned back to the bottle of wine. There was a small amount left in the bottom; he looked at it reproachfully and corked the last of it for a special occasion (i.e. the next day).

"Not much point sealing that, Draco," Harry called from the main room, "We're going away tomorrow and it'll go funny when left alone!" He watched as Draco _un_corked the wine for a special occasion. "And what happened to the rota, anyway?"

"Oh, fuck the rota," Draco retorted, bringing the bottle to his lips and downing the red liquid in one.

**A/N: One more chapter before they're up, up and away! Oh dear. I have a niggling feeling that I'm going to mess the prequel up so badly I'll have only half-finished it by the time they return, and will therefore leave it half-finished as I concentrate on AWITL. *Sigh* just BEAR WITH ME =]**

**Thanks a bunch: **baralillalisa**, **pinball62**, **Chalcedony Rivers**, **Your Huckleberry**, **bookworm19065**, **bookworm19065**, **Darloudasha**, **XAnnabubbleX**, **Nymphadora Potter** and **Mental Disturbed Social Retard**. Woo hoo for you!**


	36. Friday: Holiday

_**A While In The Life…: Holiday**_

The taxi beeped impatiently. Draco went over to the window and saw the driver leaning out of his open door, waiting. He held up a finger and mouthed _one more minute_ at him. Before pulling out a Muggle note and waving it at him. The taxi driver shut his door and waited.

"Harry, have you- Harry?"

Draco turned, expecting to see Harry kneeling by the cases, and was startled to find nobody there. He looked around, and heard a clatter in the bathroom.

"Harry, what are you _doing?_" he called, "the taxi's waiting and he won't be shut up by more cash next time!"

"I'm getting the locks open!"

Locks? Draco rolled his eyes and signalled to the taxi driver again, holding up a finger to represent a minute. When he turned around, Harry had returned from the bathroom with two "combination" locks in his hands. He fixed them onto the waiting cases, fiddling with their tiny little numbers so that they wouldn't open. Draco watched over Harry's shoulder.

"What exactly is it you're doing there?"

"_1998_." Harry muttered under his breath, before raising his voice, "that's the combination."

"What?"

"To unlock the cases! The combination number, it's- it's _1998_…" Harry's voice trailed off as he caught and recognised the flash of melancholies that passed Draco's face. He hesitated, before Draco spoke.

"I'll never remember that. Change it to 1980; year we were born." He went back to the window and pretended he was communicating with the taxi.

Harry turned back to the locks, slightly disheartened. "Ok...1980 it is..."

Once the locks were done, he checked them for their strength before straightening up and facing Draco. Well. Draco's back. He called that the cases were ready, and requested Draco took the travel bags. There was no response.

"Draco?" Harry went over and reached out to silent Draco; it snapped him out of his reverie immediately.

"Sorry," he replied with a light smile, "what was that?"

"You take the bags. I'll do the cases."

"'Kay,"

Harry watched Draco shrug his bag onto his back, and pick up Harry's in his hand. There seemed to be something off about the way he strode to the door and opened it, holding it out. The taxi beeped from outside.

"Well, come on, then," Draco complained, "what are you waiting for? We have a plane to catch!"

Harry just about smiled. "Draco…are you alright?"

Draco didn't say anything as Harry took the cases and wheeled them out of the doorway. Only when he'd turned off the lights did he speak.

"Yes, Harry. Yes, of course. I'm with you. Why wouldn't I be alright, if not for that alone?"

The door clicked softly shut behind them.

**A/N: And off go our boys, into the mysterious land of Turkey. Gosh, I can't believe this is the thirty-sixth chapter! ****Thirty-sixth****! Man. I feel achieved. And to think that this only started out with a single drabble!  
So! I bring news of the first chapter of the prequel, which can be found here if you take out the spaces: **h t t p : / / w w w . f a n f i c t i o n . n e t / s / 6 1 0 4 1 4 7 / 1 / **I hope it is enjoyed =] (And that the link works)**

**And here's where all the cool people are: **pinball62** (Speedy Gonzalez!), **Darloudasha**, **Chalcedony Rivers** and **Beckyno1**. Thank you!**


	37. Friday: Home, Sweet Home

_**A While In The Life…: Home, Sweet Home**_

The solitary click of a key releasing a lock erupted in the silent, still room. Slowly, inch by inch, the door opened to reveal the silhouetted figures in its frame, casting long shadows onto the surrounding lit-up ground. The first of the two entered through to the empty flat, and stopped a few feet from the door whilst the other remained. A hand meandered around the doorway, feeling around before flicking a switch. Suddenly, the whole room came into bright, rose-tinted focus.

Draco looked around him at the flat, which had been left immaculate, and had stayed so almost surprisingly over the past two weeks. He vaguely heard movement behind him, but didn't turn to see what- who- it was. He let the flat drip into his mind and assured himself in knowing that they were well and truly _home_. They had returned. The holiday was over. And speaking of which...Draco's features seemed to visibly harden. Face set, he let the bags fall out of his hand, off of his shoulder, and come into contact with the floor with a resounding _thump_.

"Draco..." The voice was closer than expected.

Before Harry could say anything more, Draco turned swiftly towards him. He gave Harry one smooth, coldly composed glower and moved over to his case. Harry could do nothing but sigh and retrieve his own; he brought it over to the bed and unzipped it. After a few seconds, Draco followed suit. They unpacked their clothes in silence, there being an occasional huff or sigh from Harry's side, and a stream of foul-mouthed mutterings from Draco. There was, as it seemed, no communication between the two of them.

They continued to work alongside one another, unpacking clothes and toiletries and placing them in their rightful places, that being the bathroom or a washing pile. Every few moments or so, Draco would lift his head slightly to Harry and subtly shake it in disbelief, sending daggers at him. After all of the clothes had been sorted into piles and Harry had set up the washing machine with its first load, there was an attempt at conversation again.

"Draco-"

Harry was cut off almost immediately by Draco holding up one finger. He didn't even bother to turn his body in Harry's direction, yet by holding up that single finger he made it _very_ clear to Harry that he didn't want him to talk. Harry sighed, and headed into the bathroom. Surely, once he had had some time to get over the tiredness and for the _back to reality_ mood to kick in, Draco would be fine. He wouldn't be so awkward and moody. There was only one way to find out, and that was to wait. Harry sighed again; he had a feeling he would be waiting for a _very_ long time.

Whilst brushing his teeth, Harry would peer into the vast mirror and look at Draco's reflection in the main room. Always the same as he had been left; body stiff, arms folded tightly over his chest, legs together, staring out of the window. Occasionally he would look conspicuously back at Harry through the corner of his eye, just to send Harry a message that he was ok. However, the only _message_ that Harry interpreted from Draco's stance was that of _Don't do it, Potter. Just don't._ Harry cringed.

Predictably, Draco took much longer when he retreated to the bathroom than Harry had, so Harry moved the cases off of the bed and onto the floor whilst he waited for his partner to emerge. He threw back his hands, behind his head, and was perfectly still. He didn't flinch when the bathroom door opened; not one of his muscles moved as Draco got ready for sleep around him; no, Harry was still and sound. When Draco eventually slid in beside him, Harry could feel he was freezing cold. Goodness knew why- probably having one of those "summer showers" again.

Harry pulled Draco close to him, and nestled his face in the sweet-smelling, silly blond hair. He waited for Draco to settle before speaking.

"Draco," he whispered into the night, stroking a thumb up and down a small part of Draco's back. The other man exhaled, and looked up at Harry.

"_Never_," Draco murmured, quietly but firmly, "again."

Harry chuckled and kissed the top of the silky, blond head.

**A/N: Four things.**

**And we're back! Yay! Now that Draco and Harry are officially returned to Home, **_**Sweet**_** Home, we can have more fun!**

**Righto. Here's the thing with the prequel; I shall try as best I can to update the chapters ASAP, but what with mountains of other work I haven't had much time =[ LUCKILY, it's the summer holidays in one week! Yay! So, sorry for the delayedness in that. (No, **_**delayedness**_** is ****not**** a word.)**

**Finally…three things? Oh. Just three things. Lol. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or Story Alerted or Favourited or whatever since they've been away- you're all stars! :3**

Nymphadora Potter**, **pinball62**, **bookworm19065**, **XAnnabubbleX**, **mmmm456**, **Darloudasha**, **totalimmortal**, **slasheroo** and **Catindahat**. Oh, and there was one more thing; my newly invented **_**haters**_** list! :D No, only joking. It's just for a laugh. But still;**

mmmm456**, be shamed! Kay I'm done.  
Bye!**


	38. Saturday: Exchanging Pleasantries

_**A While In The Life…: Exchanging Pleasantries**_

She sat on the end of their bed, cupping her chin with her hands and staring transfixed at Harry as he spoke. Draco, like Harry, had positioned himself on a cushion on the floor and listened too; although his facial expression was somewhat less intrigued and more confused. He seemed to be connecting the spoke words with his own recollections…and they didn't add up. However, he hadn't said a word so far for fear of ruining the comfortable mood between the three of them. He had been, almost uncharacteristically of him, _pleasant_ to Hermione ever since she'd walked through the door, commenting on how the both of their tanned skins gave them a "radiant glow".

"…it was beautiful. I'm telling you, Hermione, you should have been there," Harry continued, wide-eyed, "I mean- the weather was just- _wow_. To feel the sun, all warm on your back, and the breeze-"

"_What_ breeze?" Draco couldn't hold his comments back any longer. "Yeah, the weather was _fine_-that's if you don't mind being fried at five hundred degrees Celsius for most of the day!" He didn't miss the rolled eyes passed from Harry to Hermione.

"Oh, here we go," she said jokingly, rubbing her hands together and leaning forward in mock eagerness. Draco fought the bitter urge to scowl at her, and she laughed. Bloody _perceptive_ woman.

"Well, it's true!" Draco replied indignant, "it _was_ too hot! I missed the _rain!_ And the overcast _skies!_ And there were bloody…_farm_ animals trailing around everywhere.."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry, who quickly put in an explanation. "There were a few chickens about the hotel, is all."

"A _few!_ There were _hundreds!_ I literally- _literally_ - shut my eyes for a _minute_, lying on the grass, and there was a bloody scrawny _bird_ next to my head when I opened them!"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, that was funny. He jumped out of his skin in fear."

Draco couldn't resist; he scowled. Harry grinned in response and got up. "I do hope you'll excuse him, Hermione," he said as he went to the kitchen- presumably for some drinks- and called, "Somewhere along the lines- must have been the flight- he's been replaced with a miserable bastard!"

Hermione laughed, and smiled at Draco. He found he couldn't quite return the favour, so instead tipped his head and flushed. Harry, just in time to save the awkward moment descending, returned with a green bottle in each hand.

"Right!" he exclaimed, grinning devilishly, "_Let's_ _get_ _pished!_"

**A/N: Oh. This looked longer on paper =/**

**Thanks! **pinball62**, **Nymphadora Potter**, **Chalcedony Rivers**, **x Bluebell Flames x**, **Black Clouds of Thought**, **lilz54**, **Daughter of Poseidon33**, **Darloudasha**, **bookworm19065**. You all rock me cotton socks :D**


	39. Sunday: And Several Hours Later

_**A While In The Life…: And Several Hours Later…**_

"_No!_" Draco argued, his wine sloshing about as he raised his hand, "No, the _best_ bit was when he- he-" A fit of drunken giggling consumed the rest of the sentence.

"Come on, spit it out! She wants to know! _And_ me, for a fact!"

Draco took a deep breath and stifled a giggle. "When he got up onto the bar with all the _straight_ waiters and started dancing to the Mascaranus!"

"What?" Harry's confused frown automatically changed to a grin as he realised what Draco was talking about. "_No_, Draco, it was the _Macarena_! The Macarena!"

"Oh yeah!" Draco, like Harry, creased up. "What the bloody hell is a _Mascaranus?_"

"Well _I_ don't bloody know, do I?"

Hermione hadn't said anything of yet, entranced by the boy's sketch-show-type behaviour. The three of them had gotten through at least another two bottles of alcohol since the first drop of wine was drunk several hours ago, and were well and truly "pished". They had also moved from around the bed to the sofa, after Draco had warmly complained that he felt like a midget with a crick in his neck from looking up at Hermione on the bed whilst he sat on the cold, hard floor.  
Well.  
Slightly chilly, carpeted floor. Neither of them had realised it had run well into Sunday morning, and that sunrise was only about fifteen minutes away.

"Oh, and the _worst_ part," Draco continued, flushed pink, "was that Harry had _conveniently_ forgotten when booking that _beautiful_ Turkey is _ninety-nine percent_ Muslim! In which case, the apparently scorned-upon term "homosexual" is extremely and well and truly _banned_. They all stared at us when we walked down the street!"

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly help yourself out much there, did you? _This_ one," Harry said accusingly to Hermione, "felt the need to _latch_ himself onto me _wherever_ we went!"

"Well, what was I _supposed_ to do?" Draco spilled some wine obliviously as he gestured wildly around with his hands, "_I_ thought that two weeks alone together meant that we could actually _be_ together!"

"_Yes_, Draco, but you could have at least _tried_ to be a little more… _inconspicuous!_" Harry argued back, before turning to Hermione, "He almost got us thrown out of some nightclub at one point for trying to undress me!"

Draco cringed when Hermione laughed in response. "Well, I think we can _safely_ say that drunken Draco Malfoys should _never_ be allowed out in public!"

"Hmmm…well, I suppose that what we lacked in public places was _certainly_ made up for behind several closed doors…." Harry's eyes became slightly (more) unfocused for a moment.

"Oh! Ok! Too much information!"

"Oh, shut up and drink your wine, Granger; I've had more action with Scarhead over there in two weeks than you've _ever_ had, _ever!_"

"Draco, I've never _wanted_ action with Harry. You're making no sense. Drunken fool."

A slurred pause.

"…Shuddup."

And so the morning stretched to afternoon in a similar fashion, and the day went on.

**A/N: I have just checked my reviews page and there are just over 100! Man! Thanks, guys! You are all uber!cool :D:D**


	40. Monday: Morning

_**A While In The Life…: Morning**_

One bleary eye fluttered open and peeked out over the covers. After a small groan, it retreated back. A few minutes and a couple of harrumphs later and Draco was half-sitting up on his bed. Harry was gone; there was a note explaining his whereabouts next to his space on the pillow. (_Stupid man_, Draco thought as he caught it fluttering off onto the floor, _you _knew_ I'd only roll over and knock it off._) However, when he looked around he could tell things were amiss. And that there was something missing in his time-keeping; he just couldn't tell what. That is, he just couldn't tell what until he spotted the female figure sleeping on his floor.

Eyes widening, Draco slipped down from the bed and tiptoed over to her, searching her face and his own head for recollection of her appearance in his home. Oh, it was Hermione alright, no doubt about that. But the question was how did she get there? And _why_ was she still here now? Harry _never_ had friends to stay over...not even this one. He must have been breathing slightly heavily, or leaning in too close, because Hermione's eyes slowly came into focus and she looked at him oddly upon waking. She then cast her eyes to around the room and, upon realising exactly where she was, gasped and reached for her watch.

"Oh, God, the time..." she muttered, mainly to herself.

Draco's forehead creased and he backed away. "It's Monday," he mused.

"_Monday_?"

"_You_ came round on Saturday." Draco looked at her quizzically, and tapped his chin with the tips of his fingers. "Now, what _I_ want to know is why you're here _now_, two days _later_."

Suddenly, Draco became aware of a strange sensation in his head, and sat down quickly. It was making him feel rapidly dizzy. "Oh no, Hermione. We got pissed again, didn't we?"

She looked at him, with a mix of concern and disapproval in her eyes. "_Again_? You mean to say you get pissed often?"

"Of course I get bloody pissed often! I'm Draco _flaming_ Malfoy!"

"Well, what's the problem with getting pissed this time then?"

"Well, it's not _really_ that much of a problem with getting _pissed_, to be completely honest," Draco hesitated before explaining, "it's mainly due to the whole idea of getting pissed with _you_."

"What's the problem with _me_?" Hermione exclaimed, sitting upright and pouting. "I've done nothing wrong."

"No, dear, you just drank your way through our wine collection," Draco pointed to the bottles lined up on the ground by the door.

"Hmph." Hermione suddenly flushed, before paling completely, "Oh, gosh…"

"What?"

"I-" she looked quickly at him and quickly away, "I haven't been home since Saturday. He'll…"

"Oh yeah. I often forget you're Mrs Weasley now. Pity, that."

"He won't know where I am..." she took on a slightly worried, slightly scared expression. "Sorry, Draco, I have to go."

"Ok. That's ok," Draco said, rising to accompany her to the door, "You should- um, you should get back."

"Thanks, Draco." She looked at him closely, scrutinising his face.

"It's ok." Draco paused. "What for?"

"Well...just _for_, really. For Saturday and yesterday. For the chat this morning. ... For being so good about me leaving to go back to Ron."

Draco couldn't help the wince that came instinctively with the sound of Weasley's name. Hermione didn't miss it, and took a tentative hand from the inside of her pocket to place on his shoulder. He met her empathetic gaze and thawed slightly.

"And I'm _sorry_, Draco. For _him_."

Draco found himself unable to respond audibly to that last, and so returned the smile he had not quite ignored about a day ago. She smiled tentatively back and made towards the doorway. He called out to her.

"Bye, Hermione! Hope to see you soon!"

"Yeah, soon!" she replied, turning back to speak to him. "Tell Harry I said goodbye, won't you?"

"Yep. Will do. Bye!"

She raised a hand in farewell and continued on her way down the building's stairs and out into the busy, Monday morning, Muggle London. Draco watched her go from the windows, and raised his eyebrows in slight disbelief.

It seemed that the ridge was finally broken.

**A/N: Cheers again to everyone else in the gang. Sorry about the slightly delayed update! Here now! =]**

**Ta ra.**


	41. Tuesday: Waiting

_**A While In The Life…: Waiting**_

Harry leant against the wall and crossed his arms, waiting. He knew that if he stood and stared long enough, Draco's patience would run dry and he would look up. It was only a matter of time; Harry smiled to himself, and cocked his head slightly. He was enjoying this. Give it a moment or two, and Draco would have snapped.

Eventually, the time came. The grey eyes lost their place on the page of a book and stared up at the wall opposite them. So Harry wasn't _entirely_ attended to.

"What?" the word was drawled, trying- and failing- to hide the impatient curiosity Draco was emanating.

Harry smiled more broadly and pushed himself off of the wall, going over to his desk and opening the top drawer before answering. "Nothing."

"Well, _nothing_ seems to have an extremely _hard_ time keeping its eyes off my back, Harry," Draco drawled again, averting his eyes to his book and visibly becoming more and more frustrated as his questions weren't answered properly.

"I think I'll write some. God, I haven't completed a journal entry for ages! Not since the ... the 18th! That's _ages_ ago.."

Draco made a little 'tch' sound with his teeth. "You and your bloody journal."

He kept his eyes on his book as Harry settled down at the table. It didn't occur to him that _maybe_ he should have _moved_ them a bit so that he could look like he was _actually_ reading the crap.

"You know, Draco, it really _does_ help, when reading, if you actually _look_ at what's on the pages."

Harry chuckled, as Draco narrowed his eyes. There was something strange going on...Harry was-

"Too happy." Draco gulped, upon realising he had spoken aloud, "You're increasingly..._chipper_ today, Harry."

"Why, aren't I allowed to be any more?"

"Of course you are! It's just...strange, is all."

Harry returned to scribbling in his Little Leather Book, and eventually Draco's eyes drifted back to his slightly dull pages. A Muggle contraption, no doubt. One of Harry's.

"Why were you staring at me?" He asked abruptly. Harry looked up.

"Why, is it forbidden now?" He teased in response.

"No, it's just annoying when you do it and then won't tell me _why_."

Harry paused, and peered at Draco like an old man. "What are you reading there? Who's it by?"

"Oh, for Christ's-" Draco glared at the ceiling before glancing down at the paperback. "Am Homes, or someone. It's yours; about the troubled slightly old guy and the Indian who eat doughnuts. … Or something."

"_Oh_, A. M Homes. I see," Harry said, before returning his eyes to his own hand-written page. "Good book, that..." he mumbled.

"Hah. Glad _someone_ thinks so," Draco muttered, knowing full well that Harry could hear, and tried to read for another few minutes. However, the healing string of curiosity and impatience finally snapped again. "_Harry_! Why were you staring at me?"

"Are you seriously still stuck up on that?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes! _Why_?"

Harry only chuckled and whistled a stupid tune under his breath. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.

"So Hermione was telling me about your little chat yesterday."

Draco paled. "Oh." He now knew _exactly_ why Harry had been staring at him. "Um. What did she say?"

"Why, you look ever so _guilty_, Draco," replied Harry, "should there have been _more_ to what she told me?"

"Well, I shan't know until _you_ tell me what _she_ told _you_," Draco tried at nonchalance, failing miserably.

Harry got up from his desk and crossed the short distance between them. He chuckled. "Don't look so _worried_, Draco. She was actually telling me about what a _good chat_ you two had."

The colour returned relieved to Draco's face. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_," Harry murmured, running the tip of his finger down Draco's cheek, "It seems like you two are...ok now, then?"

Draco met Harry's eyes. He nodded. "Yes. Everything's in the..." he smiled. "The past."

Harry ruffled Draco's hair and wandered back to his journal, which had lost its page in the breeze flowing through the open window. Harry grumbled to himself, and set about finding it again.

**A/N: Ok, yays for the summer holidays! I'm going to kick-start my writing the prequel now that I have nothing else to do- so there shouldn't **_**really **_**be any excuses this time =]**

_**Ty**_**: **TeiraanCHAN**, **bookworm19065**.**


	42. Wednesday: Ring

_**A While In The Life…: Ring**_

"Harry, phone."

There was no response from the bathroom, so Draco tried calling louder. "_Harry_! _PHONE_!"

The door was unlocked and Harry traipsed out in a towel, hissing at the cold. "Yes, yes, I'm _coming_! It wouldn't hinder me if you could actually _answer_ it once in a while, either!"

Draco flicked up an uninterested eyebrow and resumed his reading. He heard Harry mumble a _hello? _into the _'receiver'_ and rolled his eyes. "God knows how one man can have so many _people_ after him," he muttered. As Harry's voice suddenly got more concerned, Draco paused on his page. He wondered whether he should leave the conversation alone and continue to read, or whether he should...eavesdrop. Inevitably easily, Draco looked back down at his book and made the choice- it was between homeless guys drinking tea or doing what Malfoys did best; spying on other people.

Although this time Draco _did_ remember to keep his eyes moving around the page, to keep up the pretence that he was _in fact_ reading the present-tense Muggle fiction.

"Oh god...that's _awful_...look, are you sure you don't- ...but of _course_ it wouldn't!"

The one-sided conversation went on like this for a while. _Oh, come on_, Draco thought to himself, _give me some clues, or _something...

"No! If he's being like that, then-" Harry's voice cut off and he ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, "But it's for your own safety- ... Hermione! Hermione?"

Draco sat up straighter, dropping all pretences of reading. Hermione? What could possibly be so wrong with Hermione that she was discussing it in heated terms over the phone? Something she had said floated over to the front of Draco's mind. _I haven't been home since Saturday. He'll…He won't know where I am..._ He inhaled quickly. Something told him there was more that _he_ knew- or at least, could make an educated guess- about the situation than Harry would have been told. He waited anxiously for the conversation to ensue, eyes unchangingly set on Harry's pacing figure. Harry didn't speak for a long time, and when he did it was in hushed tones. Draco could hardly hear what was going on.

"Hermione, I really think-" Harry turned to see Draco staring intently at him, and stopped abruptly. "Just one minute."

He walked swiftly past Draco into the bathroom, and locked the door. Draco cursed underneath his breath; he was almost surprised to find himself feeling as concerned as Harry had looked about the news on the other end of the mine. _No_, he thought, _line_. _The other end of the_ line_, Draco_.

When Harry came back out, he paused at the sight of Draco sitting stiffly on the sofa, and his facial expression softened.

"I'll bet I look just as worried as you feel right now, don't I?" He whispered. The phone in his hand was replaced back into its holder, and Harry came and sat down by Draco on the sofa. They took each others' hands and each looked in different directions. A few moments passed in silence, and Draco seemed to contemplate speaking several times. He would open his mouth, gape at the thin air around him, and close it again. After repeating this exercise, Draco finally found the words to utter.

"Is...is it _him_?"

Harry exhaled sharply, and gripped the hand under his.

"Yes, Draco. Yes... it's him."

**A/N: A little late in terms of updating; sorry about that =]**

**Thanks! - **Early-Dawn-Bird**, **bookworm19065**, **pinball62**, **lilz54**, **Chalcedony Rivers** and **Nymphadora Potter**. You make me schmile :3**


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